Blood
by The Lord of Chaos
Summary: After learning that Professor Snape is his biological father, Harry must determine what, if anything, he wants from the man. In the meantime he'll have werewolves, dementors, time travel, and escaped convicts to deal with. Set in third year; respects cannon up to second year and then picks and chooses from what's left. Contains child abuse, strong language and extreme violence.
1. Birth

Author's Note: Hey all, it's been a while since I started a project, but it's been great to get back in to it. I hope you all like this, it's been on the back burners of my mind for a while now, along with about ten other stories. I've long been a fan of the Snape as Harry's dad genre and I like to think that I've added my own twist to the tale. So now without further ramblings from me...

Birth

Being a wizard who wasn't allowed to do magic, Harry thought, must be like being a fighter pilot who'd been grounded. Considering his racing broomstick locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, along with most of his other magical items, Harry felt he had a very good idea how a grounded fighter pilot felt. Harry was a wizard: he performed spells with a wand, flew high up in the sky at dangerous speeds on a broomstick, brewed potions in a cauldron, and occasionally went on adventures with his best friends. He even went to school in a magic castle, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unfortunately, having only had two years of magical training under his belt, he was relegated to being about as magicless as his muggle relatives, the Dursleys. Over the summer holidays, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery dictated that he wasn't to perform any magic whatsoever.

The Dursleys were the family that Harry had lived with since he had been an infant and his parents had been killed. However, the Dursleys had never treated Harry like he was a child in their care, much less like he was family. The Dursleys had an obsession with being normal, especially with being perceived by their neighbors as being normal. The problem was that they had an extreme intolerance of anything they perceived to be abnormal. Thus magic, and by extension their wizard nephew Harry, was likely at the top of the list of things they considered to be abnormal. Why his Aunt Petunia and his Uncle Vernon hadn't sent Harry off into the foster system the moment he had been left on their doorstep, Harry didn't know. There were certainly times he wished that they had.

At the moment, Harry was lying on his bed in his bedroom, or rather Dudley's second bedroom, which Harry had been moved into when his first Hogwarts acceptance letter had arrived when he was soon to be eleven. Prior to that, the cupboard under the stairs had been his bedroom. It was a rainy day and Harry had decided to stay inside with a book. Not one of his magic books of course. As far as the Durselys knew, all of those were locked up in the cupboard. Harry, however, had several of his school books under the loose floorboard next to his bed. It had been a risk, picking the lock on the cupboard and sneaking them out, but he had summer homework to do, and didn't feel like telling his professors that he hadn't done it because his relatives hated magic. Not that they'd been able to tell that a few books were missing, it was his wand that his uncle checked for regularly, to make sure it was still locked up in the cupboard. The book that he was reading was an old worn book that he had pulled out of the grab bin at the library. It wasn't the peak of literature, but it kept him from going stir crazy on a rainy day with nothing else to do.

Unfortunately, at that moment, his cousin Dudley felt that he had nothing to do stuck inside on a rainy day. This was quite untrue though, Dudley had just about every toy imaginable, several computer games, and a host of books that he had never read sitting in his room. Yet for the boy who had everything, it seemed, there was only one form of entertainment that never seemed to grow old.

"Hey Potter," he said in the same manner his mother occasionally said the word freak.

"Hmm?" Harry said, not looking up from his book.

"Let's play a game Potter," he said. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"Fun for you, I'm sure," Harry said. Dudley's games didn't really allow for fun for all. Harry continued to keep his face in his book, as though he wasn't concerned that his very large cousin was standing in his doorway. "What did you have in mind? Harry hunting, smash the ponce, cops and robbers, or have you come up with an other excuse to rough me up?"

Harry wasn't a little kid, he'd faced down a dark wizard, slew a basilisk, and saved his best friend's sister's life. He was well past putting up with Dudley's horrid games.

"Well if you'd rather just skip to the end..." Dudley hefted his meaty fist nonchalantly.

"The end where you wind up with another pigs tail, you mean?" Harry asked. "Or maybe it's donkey ears this time."

Dudley's hands flew to his backside for a moment before he regained his composure. With a smirk he said, "You can't, Dad locked up your wand, he checks for it now and then, you can't do anything."

"Didn't stop me that time at the zoo, or any of the other times I didn't have it. We can do magic without, you know. The wand just makes it easier. No, I shouldn't have any trouble dealing with you."

Dudley hesitated a moment before, "Then what? you'll be expelled. You can't do that stuff out of school. That letter said so."

"That was last year's warning," Harry said. "If I'd done magic again then, sure, I'd have been in some trouble. But this is a new summer. I've still got one warning this summer."

"You're bluffing," Dudley said.

Harry was bluffing, he really didn't know what would happen if he did any magic, and he certainly couldn't be certain of any accidental magic if he needed it. It had been hit and mostly miss when he was younger.

"You willing to risk a rat's nose to find out?" Harry asked.

"Dad'd beat the shite out of you. There's still a bunch of time till you go back to school."

"It'd be worth it though," Harry said lightly, his face still in his book, as though he was enjoying the prospect of seeing dudley with a rat's nose and that his uncle's anger wasn't that much of a concern for him.

"Prove it then," Dudley challenged.

"What?" Harry asked. "You want me to waste my freebie? With most of the summer still ahead of me? No, I'll hold on to it for now, unless I need it."

"You're so full of shite Potter," Dudley said, angrily.

"No, I'm not, but you know what else I'm not full of, not any more." Harry turned finally to Dudley. "Fear, I'm not afraid of you any more, not like you're afraid of magic. So why don't you get out of my room, and close the door on your way out. I'm not playing any of your stupid games."

"I'm not afraid of your stupid magic," Dudley said angrily, and with a menacing step forward Dudley said, "I've got a good game in mind though."

"No..." Dudley's least favorite word to hear was about as far as he got before Dudley crossed the room. Harry tried to scramble up from his position on the bed, but Dudley shoved him down. Suddenly Dudley was on top of him, and Harry was vividly reminded of when they had been younger, and Dudley would pin him down and pummel him. Dudley didn't even bother to pin his arms, as scrawny as Harry was, there was very little he could do against Dudley's massive frame. Dudley punched him in the nose.

"Ouch, you stupid..." Dudley's hand clamped down over his mouth.

"I'm not stupid," Dudley said fiercely. "You're stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Poor pathetic Potter's stupider than a sack of shite. You know what Potter? You talk too much. I wouldn't want you to say anything else so stupid." The pillow under Harry's head was ripped away, and suddenly it was over his face. Harry had trouble breathing and suddenly he felt a panic inside his chest. Harry's arms started flailing about wildly and largely ineffectively while Dudley's free hand started digging its knuckles in between Harry's ribs. He was suffocating; he couldn't breathe. He tried to turn his head to the side so that he could gasp a breath but it felt like he was pinned in place, like someone had their hand on the back of his head forcing his face into the scratchy surface of the pillow. He couldn't breath through his nose, which was currently clogged with blood and snot, and as he gasped for breath through his mouth, it felt like the material of the pillow filled his mouth. Merlin, he was going to suffocate to death. His own cousin was killing him. He started to feel faint. Suddenly the pillow was ripped off of his face.

"Just say it, I dare you," his cousin was saying through clenched teeth. "Just say I'm stupid one more time. See what happens."

Harry was furious with his cousin, more furious than he felt he had ever been before, and he lashed out in about the only way he could see how. He spit in Dudley's face. Dudley quickly returned the gesture and punched Harry in the short ribs. He wiped the saliva off his own face and then started smearing it, along with his own, over Harry's face, spit mixing with blood from Harry's nose. Harry was still gasping for breath. Then Dudley's hand was clamped down over his face, and with his one uncovered eye, Harry could see Dudley's face hovering over his. His cousin gathered some phlegm from his throat and let it slowly creep out of his mouth. A line of spit getting closer and closer to Harry's eye. Harry tried to squirm out of the way, but he couldn't budge. Harry started to panic again as the disgusting contents of his cousins throat inched down towards his eye. Suddenly though, it felt like his cousin wasn't on top of him anymore, though he could see him still hovering over his face, Dudley now had a look of bewildered panic on his face. And Harry could see with both eyes now, Dudley's hand wasn't on his face anymore, though now it looked like Dudley's forearm was coming strait out of Harry's face. An instant after Harry noticed all of this, he realized that he felt like he was falling. His vision went black momentarily and then he landed with a thud on the floor under his bed. His cousin gave a yelp of alarm. Harry didn't even think twice before rolling out from under the bed and making a dash for the door. Racing down stairs, he suddenly thought that it wouldn't be so bad to spend the afternoon in the rain.

"What's all this ruckus," his uncle said, stepping out of the kitchen. Harry could hear Dudley's thundering footsteps behind him.

"Dad, dad. Harry did you know what on me," Dudley cried out, and Harry's heart plummeted into his stomach.

His uncle gave a roar as Harry tried to squeeze past him for the front door. He had been quite good at this when he was younger. Yet as he had grown older, though he hadn't grown that much, it had become harder to slip through his uncle's grasp.

"What did you do to my son," his uncle roared, pushing Harry against the wall.

"Nothing," Harry said. "I didn't do anything to him, I swear."

His uncle smacked him in the face. "Don't you lie to me boy, now what did you do."

"It was an accident," Harry said. "It didn't even do anything to him, look at him, he's fine."

Uncle Vernon looked Dudley over with a critical eye, but seeing that nothing seemed to be wrong with him, he turned his thunderous gaze back towards Harry.

"First that bloody phone call from one of your freak friends, now you're using your unnaturalness under my roof on my son. Up to your room boy, now, I'll deal with you in a minute." He let Harry go and pushed him in the direction of the stairs.

Harry trudged up the stairs, passed a triumphant looking Dudley, and then walked into his room. He could hear his Uncle checking on Dudley, and Dudley giving some sob story. Then he heard what he had been dreading, the sound of his Uncle coming up the stairs to his room.

About ten minutes later an owl arrived from the ministry. This of course just renewed his uncles anger. Harry didn't get to read it for a while, and after he got over the fact that he wasn't being expelled, Harry became quite embarrassed over the overall tone of the letter. The Improper Use of Magic Office had basically written to say that they had detected anomalous magic and admonished him that a boy his age should have better control over accidental magic. Harry rather thought that, living with the Dursleys, it was a wonder he didn't lose control more often. All in all, Harry figured that it was probably the worst day of summer so far, and hopefully the rest of summer too. Yet as Harry settled in to sleep that night, sore from earlier and generally angry at life the universe and everything, he found he couldn't hold on to his misery as a feeling of peace suffused him and he felt oddly content as he drifted off to sleep.

IIIIIII

It was a few days before Harry was allowed out of his room for anything besides chores, and the fairer weather saw Harry wandering the streets of Little Whinging. Luckily, he didn't have to worry about the neighbors seeing any bruises from the events of the days prior. He had never bruised easily, something Dudley had taken full advantage of growing up, and the few small bruises he had had had already faded by the time he'd been allowed outside again.

The summer had been grinding along very slowly, but though it had seemed like ages, Harry's birthday was almost upon him. Tomorrow he would be thirteen. His birthday of course had never really been a cause for celebration, but as he worked on his homework after his relatives had gone to sleep, Harry found himself repeatedly looking at his clock as it wound it's way towards midnight. After a while, Harry put his homework away, under the loose floorboard by his bed and just waited.

Harry wished Hedwig wasn't off flying; in two minutes the clock would strike midnight and he would be thirteen. He rather wished he had some company for his birthday, though at least Hedwig wasn't locked up in her cage and he could keep in contact with his friends, unlike last summer. Still though, she had been gone for a few days and Harry rather missed having company at Privet Drive that didn't glare at him. Harry glanced back at the clock; only one minute to go.

He looked out of his open window and did a double take. Silhouetted against the moon was a bizarre looking creature that looked to be flying right towards his window. A moment later, Harry saw that it wasn't one creature but four, four owls flying towards Harry's window. Harry recognized Hedwig, his large snowy owl, who his friend Hagrid had given him for his eleventh birthday. She was carrying a small package bound in twine that she clenched in her talons. Also in the cluster of owls was Errol, the Weasley family owl. Errol was a very old owl, and he looked to be having trouble with the package he was carrying, Hedwig and a small brown barn owl carrying an envelope looked to be helping the disheveled looking owl to carry its package. The last owl, flying just below the other three, was big tawny owl; it was carrying a largish parcel with an envelope on top.

Harry went to the window and opened it all the way. The lone owl swooped through and dropped it's delivery on Harry's bed. The three tandem owls stopped at the window sill and Harry quickly relieved poor Errol of his package before taking the exhausted owl to Hedwig's cage where he could drink some water. The brown barn owl left its large envelope on Harry's desk and flew out the window without taking a moment to rest.

Harry turned and greeted Hedwig, who preened under his attention as he took the package from her talons and offered her his other arm to latch on to. Harry grabbed the package that Errol had brought and walked over to his bed, happily chatting with Hedwig, who was affectionately nipping at his shoulder.

Harry set Hedwig to perch on his bedpost as he picked open the package that Errol had brought. Inside he found a letter, a newspaper clipping, and an odd crystal with a scrap of paper rolled around it. Harry turned the clipping over after seeing a partial article about stellar alignment and was rather surprised to see the entire Weasley clan in the photograph standing in front of a pyramid and waving enthusiastically towards Harry. Harry read the accompanying article.

'Ministry of Magic Employee Scoops Grand Prize,' read the article title. It looked like Arthur Weasley, Ron's father, had won a drawing at the Daily Prophet. The family was vacationing in Egypt where Ron's brother Bill worked.

Harry grinned broadly, the Weasleys were the best family he knew; the summer prior they had taken him into their home, saving Harry from a full summer with the Dursleys. They were also, however, very poor and Harry couldn't think of anyone else who more deserved to win such a prize. Harry turned his attention to the letter, which was from his best friend, Ron Weasley.

Ron, it seemed, was having a great time in Egypt. His brother bill was giving them tours of all the ancient tombs in the area. He would be getting a new wand as well. Harry rather wished he was in Egypt with his best friend at the moment.

Harry unrolled the paper from around the crystal and saw that Ron had sent him a Sneakoscope, a magical device that would let him know when someone untrustworthy was around. Harry grinned as he picked up the sneakoscope and placed it on his nightstand. Next Harry turned his attention to the package that Hedwig had brought him, on top was a letter from Hermione, his other best friend.

Hermione, it turned out, was in France with her parents and seemed to be quite enjoying herself. She too asked if he would meet up in London in the week before term. Harry didn't know what he would tell them. He wasn't even sure how he would be getting to the Hogwarts Express that year. The Dursleys had been less tolerant of him this summer than they had started out the summer before. Though it was still better then the end of his stay with them last summer when he had been locked in his room.

Harry smiled, though he was sure that Hermione had just sent him a book judging by the shape and weight of the package. Harry dug some owl treats out of his nightstand and gave them to Hedwig.

"What a good girl you are, carrying this all the way from the continent, and in time for my birthday too." Hedwig looked proud under his attention.

When he opened the package, however, he was very pleasantly surprised to see that it was not a large book, but a broom servicing kit. Harry wished that he had snuck his broom out of the cupboard under the stairs as well. He missed flying almost as much as he missed his friends during the summer. Harry turned to the last package. On top was an envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest. Harry saw that the package was from Hagrid. Untying the package and unwrapping the paper, Harry was very surprised when whatever was inside opened up and then snapped shut before it slid off of his bed with a thud and darted under.

Harry's heart seemed to stop for a moment as he stopped to listen for any signs that his relatives had awoken. As moments passed though, the only sounds he heard was a snoring from his cousins room and a slight scurrying sound from under his bed. The last thing he needed was another fight with his uncle, and waking the man up in the middle of the night, with whatever strange creature was under his bed, was a great way to start a rather unpleasant one.

Harry crouched down rather nervously. Hagrid would never send Harry anything he thought was dangerous. However, Hagrid had named a ferocious cerberus Fluffy, and had thought that raising a baby dragon in his small wooden cabin was a good idea. Hagrid just didn't have a normal sense of what was dangerous. Harry saw whatever the thing was huddled against the wall under his bed. Harry reached under his bed for it but had to stifle a yelp as it chomped down on his hand. Luckily, it didn't seem to have any teeth. Harry backed up as the thing started moving towards him. Once it was out from under his bed, Harry was bewildered to see that it was a book. He lunged at it, flattening the thing with his body. Harry awkwardly took his belt off and wrapped it around the book and buckled it tight. Picking it up by the strap, Harry read ''The Monster Book of Monsters' across the title. Harry read the note that came with the book and was quite alarmed to see that Hagrid thought the biting book about monsters would come in handy in their next year. Harry frowned; he really hoped Hagrid hadn't gotten a new pet he wanted help with. Harry picked up the letter from Hogwarts and broke the seal. It started rather like he expected last years had started, if he had ever gotten that letter, until he got to the part about Hogsmeade. The village by the school, third years and above were allowed to visit during certain weekends, provided they had a signed permission slip.

Now that really did put a damper on his birthday spirits. The Dursleys never liked to do anything that made Harry happy; they would never sign the form. Harry had heard about the town of Hogsmeade from older students, and he dearly did not want to be the only third year who was stuck in the castle while everyone else was having fun in the town.

Harry got up to put the letters on his desk but had to grab his pants to keep them from falling down. Dudley's hand me downs certainly had more than enough room in the waistband for Harry, as scrawny as he was. Harry rummaged around for a spare belt and found one in his closet. Formerly Dudley's, it was of course too big for him and would need a new hole for the buckle, but for the moment Harry was content to just tie the two ends together. Harry put his birthday gifts away in the space under the loose floorboard. He was about ready to go to sleep when he spotted the envelope on his desk. In the excitement of receiving birthday presents, he had forgotten the plain brown owl that had delivered the envelope sitting on his desk. Harry picked up the letter, which was addressed to Mr. H. Potter, and opened it up, removing another envelope with a piece of parchment wrapped around it.

_To Mr. H. Potter, _

_The enclosed envelope was left with our owl service, Streep's Owl Delivery, on 14 September 1981 to be delivered on 31 July 1993. The delivery of this letter concludes this transaction, there are no pending charges. We hope that you are satisfied with the services rendered and that you will consider Streep's Owl Delivery for your future owling needs. Please find below a listing of our services._

Harry disregarded the rest of the form letter and looked at the envelope with some trepidation. What could anyone have wanted to tell him now from when he was a baby. Harry turned the envelope over, on one side, written in green ink was just the word Harry. On the other side, sealing the envelope was a red wax seal, a lion on a hill top.

Harry nervously opened the envelope, choosing to tear the paper rather than break the wax seal. Inside were several sheets of parchment and a photograph. The first thing Harry noticed was that the letter had been written by two people. Some paragraphs were written with neat blocky letters, but the majority of the letter was written in smaller flowing cursive. Harry pulled the picture out of the envelope and stared at it with wide eyes. It was his parents and, in his mother's arms, smiling happily at something behind the camera, was himself, holding in his pudgy little hands a piece of board paper that said, 'Happy Thirteenth Birthday Harry'. Harry stared at the picture for a while, watching as his father looked down at the baby and then back at the camera with a grin and a wave. Harry turned to the letter.

_My Dearest Harry,_ the letter started, and Harry's breath hitched, because surely there were only two people this letter could have been written by.

_My Dearest Harry, _he read again. _If you are reading this, as only you can read this, then today you turned thirteen. Happy birthday my dear, you must be so big now. Though it is hard to imagine, since you are currently not much bigger than the cat. _

_Happy birthday Harry,_the writing changed, his father's writing. _I'm sorry we can't be there for your special day, but if you're reading this, then your mother and I have died. I can only hope you have had a happy childhood, though the trouble our world finds itself in now has often left me worried about your future. _

_Today you turned thirteen, _his mother continued. _Many see this as the beginning of when a young boy starts to become a young man. There are things that your father and I intend to tell you when you're older, but in case we are not there to help you process this information, we decided that this is an age when you might better handle this on your own. Though I do hope, however, that you have someone in your life who you can trust with this. Whether you are ready for this or not, though, this is when you need to know what we have to tell you._

_Your father and I met our first day at Hogwarts, we were sorted into the same house, Gryffindor. Unfortunately we did not get along; it wasn't until our seventh year that we started to become amicable, and by the end of that winter term, we had started dating. _

_Your mother said I had had some growing up to do before I became tolerable. I say my overwhelming charm just takes some getting used to._

Harry smiled, he knew so little about his parents, and anything they put in about themselves felt like something important about himself.

_This isn't the story of how I married your father though. It is the tale of the first wizard I had ever met. When I was nine, I had done some accidental magic in the park, and a boy who lived in the area saw. He was the one who told me I was a witch, and about the wizarding world. His name was Severus Snape, and we soon became friends. A little over a year after that, we both received our Hogwarts letters. I was so excited, and so happy to already have a friend who would be going with me. _

Harry certainly hadn't been expecting that, though he knew that Snape had gone to school with his parents. The thought of the man being in any way associated with his mother turned his stomach.

_My first big disappointment came during the sorting. I was very happy to be sorted into Gryffindor, but sad that my friend had been sorted into another house, Slytherin. As I soon found out, our houses were supposed to be rivals. We stayed close friends, however, though this caused us some trouble from time to time. Severus was a brilliant student, and he always challenged me to do better than I'd thought I could. One of the things I wish he hadn't done well in, though, was his studies into the dark arts. Severus had had, at times, a rather traumatic childhood, and he came from a very broken home. I think he would be the first to say that I shouldn't be making excuses for him, but I do think that he always sought a power that could protect him from the many hurts in his life. Through it all I tried my best to be a good friend to him, though that often meant overlooking some of the things he got up to when I wasn't around. It was in our fifth year that we started dating. Unfortunately, this was also around the time he started to associate with some of the older students in his house. _

Harry was really starting to reassess his earlier thought about learning more about his parents. Why was his mother telling him this? And how could she have dated Snape of all people?

_As I said, Severus was a brilliant student, but it wasn't until our fifth year that he really gained the notice of his peers. Before then, I'm afraid, I was his only friend in the school. There were some in his house, like Lucious Malfoy and Belatrix Lestrange, who saw his skills and thought he would be useful to them. _

_This was the beginning of dark times for the wizarding world. You likely already know what the cause was. A dark wizard named Voldemort had started to raise followers. He preached blood purity and called for a new social order. While in the beginning, he and his followers did not commit any crimes publicly, there started to be many disappearances, and unexplained deaths. Mixed families found dead in their homes; supporters of equality who suddenly went silent. Malfoy and Lestrange were supporters of this dark wizard, and they often preached blood purity in the school. Not openly, of course, but they started drawing support from within their house and from the rest of the school as well. _

_I suppose I shouldn't have been, but I was shocked when I first saw Severus in a crowd of Malfoy's hangers-on. Unlike the dark magic, I couldn't ignore this. I confronted him; asked him how he could listen to a man like that: a man who thought I shouldn't be allowed in the wizarding world, much less the school. He told me that he wasn't there to listen about blood purity, but that a friendship with Lucious Malfoy would be good for his future. Malfoy, he said, could get him the best apprenticeship, the best job. Of course, what neither of us said was the obvious: there was only so much study one could do into the dark arts at Hogwarts, while old families like Malfoy's had access to many books that should never have been written. He assured me that he could never hate me for being a muggleborn. _

_Whatever his reasons, I felt that it was up to me to save him from the dark path he was walking. In the months that followed, I felt at times closer to him that I had ever felt to anyone before. I could not stop him from following the Dark Arts though, nor could I deafen him to the words of Lucius Malfoy or blind his ambitions that led him astray. _

_It was a few months later, in the middle of OWLs week that our relationship ended. Severus had always had an easily bruised ego, and a need to feel that he could take care of himself. One evening by the lake, a couple of other boys in our year had been bullying him, and I came to his defense. He cried out that he didn't need my help, and called me a mudblood._

_I thought I would interject here, _his father wrote_. I was one of the boys who had been in the altercation with Snape. We had had a long rivalry, and he gave as good as he got. But I must confess that my behavior that day was abhorrent, and while I don't regret our rivalry, I do regret the side of me it brought out. If there's one bit of fatherly advice I'd like to impart in this letter, it's that you should never use another's misdeeds to justify your own. I knew that Snape practiced the dark arts, and I used it as justification to act out my own hurtful instincts. There was no justification for what I did that day, and I hope that you can avoid the regrets that I amassed in my youth._

His mother continued. _After those words passed his lips though, thoughts of his defense fled my mind and I fled the scene. I was incredibly hurt, entirely betrayed. I had been called that word a number of times before, but never from someone I cared about. I started to wonder if Severus had been harboring feelings against muggleborns for a while, and I had just been in this separate class in his mind. _

_I refused to talk to him for the next few days, and when I was ready to listen to him, I had already made up my mind. He begged me to forgive him, swore he would never say anything like that again, and told me that I was the only person he cared about. I forgave him, though I didn't tell him so; I wanted our relationship to continue, I wanted to forget that day had ever happened, and most of all, I wanted to guide Severus away from Malfoy and his sycophants. But I couldn't. I had something far more important to do, someone else I had to protect. In the days after that evening by the lake, I started to notice some odd symptoms and a simple spell showed me that I was pregnant. I trust that I do not need to go into detail to explain how this came to be. I will only say that at that age I was easily lost in the the wonder of such a relationship, and that I hope you understand the importance of responsible decisions in your youth. One indiscretion can change your life greatly._

Harry wasn't prone to cursing, but he started a quiet litany of words he had learned from Ron.

_There was only one person who could have been the father, and suddenly I was faced with a horrible dilemma. I couldn't trust that Severus would be able to handle having a child with a muggleborn. I couldn't risk raising a child with a man who felt contempt for his blood status. I wouldn't allow my child to grow up surrounded by the dark arts. _

_At the same time, I did wonder if a half-blood child could help me convince Severus to cut ties with Malfoy, and help to turn him away from the dark arts. In the end though, the choice was simple. I would protect my child, so I severed ties with Severus, and decided to keep the knowledge of my pregnancy from him. I hoped that he would someday be the person I could trust and raise a child with, but I knew that at that moment, he wasn't._

What the hell? Did he have a half sibling somewhere? Had he been adopted, one of his older classmates? Harry returned to the letter for answers.

_There was one big issue though; magic might have helped to hide the fact that I was pregnant over the next nine months, but I couldn't have hidden the birth of my child, and the timing would leave little doubt in Severus's mind who's child it was. I started reading books about pregnancy in earnest, and in secret. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but I was desperate for some sort of solution. I found it two months later, in a book I had picked up in Diagon alley. A potion that would halt the growth of the child inside of me, place it in a sort of stasis until I was ready to have a child. _

_I was relieved to have found a way to hide you from Severus, and also, becoming pregnant at sixteen was terrifying. I brewed the potion, and I took it. I carried that child for five years, until you were born Harry. _

Harry's mind went sideways. There was no way he could be Snape's son. He started to breath heavily, the letter almost forgotten as he started to pace his room. There was just no way!

It was seeing himself in the mirror that brought him back to reality. He had pictures of his father, he had the one that had come with the letter right there on his desk, and he looked just like him. Maybe his mother had been wrong, maybe the potion hadn't worked right and she had lost the pregnancy, and she just happened to become pregnant again right before she decided to have him. Nodding reassuringly to himself, Harry turned back to the letter.

_After I had taken the potion though, I felt quite a bit of shame. A hidden pregnancy: I felt like I was hiding my indiscretion by lying to everyone and keeping a child from his father. But I was never ashamed of you Harry. You were my constant companion. I always knew you were there, inside of me. _

_In my sixth year, I avoided all contact with boys, and threw myself into my studies. In my seventh year, I was made Head Girl, and though I did not feel that I deserved it, I took the position, determined to do my best. Your father was made Head Boy. _

Snape was such a bastard, Harry thought. Treating his mother horribly, hurting her like that. Harry was so angry on her behalf, he couldn't understand how she could write this letter like there could still be some sort of good in the man. Like there was anything redeemable about him.

_I had previously not gotten along well with James. Between his feud with Severus and a general sense of entitlement, I couldn't stand him. However, growing up changes us in many ways, and I had started to notice positive changes in your father during our sixth year. He started to treat people better, and as the conflict outside the castle walls started to affect those of us inside, he started showing true leadership to many students who were unsure of what their futures held. Still, I did not like that he was Head Boy beside me, and I still had some animosity towards him for his past. As the year went on though, as we worked together and truly got to know each other, I found his new personality to be much more than just tolerable. Though when he asked me out towards the end of our seventh year, I was still hesitant. Not because of his past, but because of mine. I was pregnant with another man's child. I told myself that it would not become serious, that it would last until the end of the school year, and end when we entered the adult world. I didn't expect to fall in love, I didn't expect to find myself planning a future that involved him, and I didn't know how it would work with you. The end of the school year came and the end of our relationship was nowhere in sight. I knew I had to tell him about you. Figuring out how was tricky, and your father being your father completely took the matter out of my hands when he asked me to marry him. So I told him everything right then and there. I was afraid that it would all be over, but it wasn't._

_I told your mother that I would love her no matter who's child she carried, and that I would love any child she bore into our marriage. I was right too._

_Your father accepted you with no reservations, and I accepted his proposal without any myself. We were married four months later._

_Yet the conflict in the wizarding world continued to escalate. Your father and I both worked against Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters, under the leadership of Albus Dumbledore. One night, while responding to a Death Eater revel, I was hit by a curse that hurt me badly. I made a full recovery, but I almost lost you. I couldn't carry you and fight, so I decided it was time to have you. I had wanted you to be born in a peaceful world, but I knew that if I continued to fight, it would have been lucky if you had been born at all. Five months later you were delivered, a little premature, though by now you had been inside of me for fifty nine months. _

_During much of the time after we graduated Hogwarts, I heard very little of Severus, except that he was associating with known Death Eaters. Shortly before you were born though, we heard, from various contacts, that Severus was brewing potions for Voldemort. There was no question in my mind that he could never know about you. _

_Now,_wrote his father_. I can just imagine you reading this right now. You're probably thinking that you look an awful lot like me. This is by design, rather than by nature. Sirius, your godfather, introduced me to an old ritual, it was once commonly used for adoption, where a parent can imbue a very young child that is not theirs by birth with a piece of themselves. Shortly after you were born, we gave you a potion with my blood, and I cast the charm that would make you my child by more than just marriage. This is why you look so much like myself, or as much as a baby can look like his father. The point is, I am your father, forever and always, but just as there is a part of me and your mother in you, there is still everything you got from Snape too, you just can't tell anymore by looking at you. Sirius is the only one besides us who knows any of this._

_That is why we are writing this letter, _his mother continued_. We did not write this letter just to tell you about your unusual heritage. I do not know all of what you have inherited from Severus, but I do know that you have a hereditary illness from him. There is no need to be alarmed. It is easily treatable. It is called hemophilia, and it basically causes your body to produce insufficient quantities of the blood cells responsible for clotting your blood when you bleed. There is a spell that treats this, but it is not a cure. It is a fairly simple spell, and lasts throughout early childhood. However, as children with this illness begin to mature magically, the magic that they use and encounter starts to wear away at the spell that acts in lieu of the cells that they are lacking. The spell has to be cast again. The older a child gets, and the stronger they become magically, the shorter this spell lasts. During early childhood, the accidental magic you perform is fairly limited, and has little effect on the spell. When you are young, just starting Hogwarts, the amount of magic that you use and is used on you is small, the spell will last an additional four and a half years, on average. By the end of your schooling when you are using powerful spells and practicing things like human transfiguration on one another in class, the spell is worn away quickly and it should be updated every year. You have only been practicing magic for the past two years, so this letter gives you quite a bit of time before you need to worry about this. Even so, you should check the strength of the charm when you get back to Hogwarts. I have included detailed instructions with this letter on how to do so, as well as how to renew the spell when the time comes. Properly managed, this illness should never affect you._

_I hesitate to add this next bit, but I cannot tell you about Severus without telling you the rest of his story. Not long after we decided to have you, we went to a meeting with Albus Dumbledore. We arrived early, early enough to see Severus leaving the Headmaster's office. I asked Albus what he had been doing there, but he told me that he could not tell me. A few months later, just after you had been born, Albus told us that Voldemort had targeted our family; that someone close to Voldemort had told him so. He would not tell me who. Perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part, I do not know if this is true, but I feel certain that it is Severus. I hope that he has turned his back on Voldemort and his hateful ways. I want him to be Dumbledore's source, but I can not trust that he is. I wish that I could have saved him, I wish that he could know that I forgave him the moment he apologized. I hope he is safe. For his safety, this paragraph will disappear after you read this, though again, you are the only one who can read it._

The paragraph disappeared at that moment.

_Anyone else who tries to read this letter will see stories that your father and I have written about our past. If you wish to see them, simply tap the parchment with your wand and say 'revelo' to change the letter back and forth. _

_I hope that you are well, and that you are well cared for. I hope that this letter never needs to be delivered. I hope you know that we love you so very much. Happy birthday my son, may your year be filled with joy and peace._

_Happy birthday Harry, you and your mother are the best things in my life. Whatever happens, whether we're there to celebrate your birthday with you or not, know that we are with you always, _his father finished the letter.

Harry stared at the letter for a moment, not really taking it in anymore.

"It means nothing," he said to himself. He nodded to himself. It meant nothing, nothing whatsoever. Snape wasn't his dad, not in any meaningful sense of the word. He hadn't been there when Harry had been a baby. He hadn't held him or played with him. He hadn't fed him or cared for him. He hadn't done anything for Harry. All he'd ever done was mock him and try to get him expelled. And how messed up was that? He'd spent every moment together with the man being ridiculed and glared at, and the guy was really some weird bio-dad. Harry was angry, he thought of all the times he had been locked in his cupboard as a kid, alone and dreaming of someone coming for him, of finding out that his parents weren't really dead and that they wanted to take him away. Well that dream had come true, in part, and what a nightmare it had become.

Harry was about to scream with all of the anger rushing through him, his breathing was out of control and he was ready to start pulling out his hair. But he didn't. A calmness suffused him, his eyes grew heavy, and he felt at peace, like he was lying on the grass in the park on a bright and sunny day.

"It doesn't mean anything," he said to himself again. He didn't need Snape, he didn't need a father, he wasn't that kid anymore. He just needed to sleep, and think about the rest of the letter in the morning.

IIIIIIIIII

_Hermione,_

_Thank you for the broom repair kit. I can't use it yet, my brooms locked up with the majority of my school stuff, but for now I'm sure I'll enjoy being able to read the book that came with it. The holiday's been fairly boring so far, all I really have for company are Hedwig and my school assignments. I hope you're having fun in France and all. I'll try to meet you in Diagon Alley but no promises._

_Harry_

Like the letter to Ron he had just written, this one omitted most of the unpleasant aspects of his summer. Like the letter he wasn't thinking about. He wouldn't send the letters yet, he didn't want to send Hedwig off after she had been gone for so long. Harry got up and started getting ready for the day. He had woken early despite his late night and had started writing his friends to keep his mind from wandering elsewhere. Pulling a clean shirt on, Harry found himself glancing at the loose floorboard where the letter from his parents was hidden. Out of sight but not out of mind by any means. Harry made his way downstairs.

Before he turned to the kitchen though, he noticed a special alert on the television. Five faces appeared on the screen. Four men, and one very deranged looking woman.

"The public is warned that all five of the escaped convicts are extremely dangerous and should not be approached for any reason. Police also caution that this man," the center picture enlarged on the screen. The man was almost feral looking and Harry was revolted to see that it looked like he had filed his teeth down to points. "Fenrir Greyback, has on numerous occasions attacked children, and has several charges of child kidnaping. Police suggest that parents keep a close eye on children playing outside."

Harry blanched at the thought of a man like that loose on the world.

"The number at the bottom of your screen is a hotline, anyone who sites any of the five escapees or has any information about their whereabouts should call immediately. For more information and up to the minute updates turn to our sister station Channel 4 News. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. One of Dudley's programs returned to the screen and Harry walked into the kitchen. That woman had stuck out, not her deranged face, but the name below it, Belatrix Lestrange. He felt like he had heard the name recently.

"Where've you been?" his aunt asked severely. "Don't make me drag you out of bed in the mornings, you won't like it."

Harry rolled his eyes as he took over the breakfast preparations only to feel his aunt slap him upside the back of his head.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me you horrid boy. Why I've put up with you all these years I have no idea, but the least you can do is show a little respect."

Hoping he could head her off Harry gave as about a polite "yes aunt Petunia," as he could, but she just continued to rant under her breath, while she set the table, covering topics such as: Harry's several unsavory qualities, that freakish business under her roof, and her own saintly patience. Harry had heard it all before and did his best to ignore it while he worked on breakfast. Not wanting to dodge any frying pans, Harry kept all retorts to himself.

Uncle Vernon walked into the kitchen and his Aunt stopped her tirade. As much as she liked to complain about Harry, she wasn't about to get her husband in a lather about it.

"Wonderful breakfast Petunia," his uncle said as he sat down at the table.

"Dudley sweetums, breakfast is ready," his aunt called to Dudley who was still watching television.

Harry finished putting the breakfast on the table and went to eat his breakfast over the sink.

"Now," his uncle said, putting down his fork, a while later. "As you both know, today is quite a special day."

Harry almost choked on his toast. The Dursleys never remembered his birthday, much less treated it like something to celebrate. His aunt glared at him while he coughed a bit. "A special day?" Harry asked once he was settled.

"Don't you pay attention boy? Marge is coming to visit, her train will be coming into the station soon. Actually I want to get to the station early, I don't want Marge waiting for me with those murderers on the loose."

"Murderers?" his aunt said worriedly. "What are you talking about?"

"It was on the radio earlier when I was shaving. Five murderers escaped from prison last night. There's a large manhunt underway."

"I saw them on the tellie," Dudley said. "They looked deranged."

"My goodness," said Aunt Petunia. "Where did they escape from."

"Could be anywhere, from all the information the news report gave," his uncle said gruffly.

"They could be walking down the street right now for all we know," Aunt Petunia said, getting up to look out the kitchen window as though she actually expected to see them doing just that. "Maybe we should go with you, I wouldn't want to be home alone without you if one of those people turned up."

"That's a wonderful idea Petunia. Well, we should head out now," his uncle said.

"I haven't finished my breakfast yet," Dudley wailed. "And I don't want to go, I can look after myself."

Harry tried not to snicker at Dudley's complaining, he had already eaten enough breakfast for two grown men.

"Now Diddy-darling, we just don't want anything to happen to you while we're gone. Tell you what, since you're such a good boy, and you're missing out on breakfast, we can stop for ice cream and doughnuts on the way home. How about that darling?"

Dudley had to think for a moment while he shoveled some more rashers and eggs into his mouth.

"One more thing though," his uncle said, turning his attention to Harry. "We couldn't tell your aunt about that bloody school you go to, so we've told her that you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"What," Harry exploded.

"And that's the story you'll be sticking to if you know what's good for you," his uncle said darkly.

Harry just gaped at the unfairness of it all.

"Make yourself useful while we're gone and clean up the kitchen," Aunt Petunia said as she collected Dudley and walked out of the room. Harry just stood there for a moment, listening to the Dursleys leave.

With the Dursleys gone, Harry took his time to eat his breakfast at the table before he cleaned the kitchen. Then he took a moment to pick the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, he needed a new bottle of ink. He looked longingly at his wand, but left it where it was lest his uncle notice that it was missing.

Harry went upstairs to his room to put the bottle away. When he pried up the loose floorboard though the first thing he noticed was the letter from his parents. He sighed and figured that he should deal with it while he had some time to himself. He only reread the part about hemophilia, and then flipped to the pages that discussed spell work which he hadn't read the night before. By the time he had finished reading it, he was fairly confident he would be able to handle any spell casting by himself, but he wouldn't be able to check anything until he got back to Hogwarts, and that was what worried him.

The letter said that the average kid wouldn't cast or encounter enough magic to wear away the spell till they were in the middle of their fifth year, but Harry wasn't an average child. What effect had magical snake venom and Phoenix tears had on him, or fighting off Voldemort over the stone, or for that matter surviving the killing curse. That was all strong magic. Still though, after looking at the symptoms of the untreated disease, Harry doubted that the spell had worn off yet. The fact that he hadn't bled to death earlier in the summer proved that. Still though, Harry had no idea how strong the spell was or how much longer it would last. Unless he wanted to write an adult wizard and explain his predicament, though, there wasn't much Harry could do until the end of summer. In the end, he was probably being paranoid. He was fine, and he had plenty of time. He didn't need to worry about anything. Besides Marge coming to visit. And the Hogsmeade permission slip, Harry realized as he put the parchment away. He had completely forgotten about Hogsmead after reading the letter from his parents the night before. Whatever hopes Harry might have had the night before for getting the form signed were shattered by Marge's impending arrival. As strict and unpleasant as Uncle Vernon was with Harry, he had always stepped things up when she visited, like he wanted to impress her with how domineering he could be with his small nephew.

Harry gathered up one of his homework assignments and went down stairs. With the house to himself, he relished the idea of working on his homework in the open. He worked until he heard his uncle's car pull up. It was time to put away his magical things and pretend to be a well behaved hoodlum. It was when he was putting his homework away that he remembered where he had heard the name Belatrix Lestrange. His mother had mentioned her, one of Voldemort's supporters. Unless there were a lot of Belatrix Lestranges out there, and Harry doubted it, then that woman on the news alert was a witch, and likely all five of the escapees were magical. That was probably why neither of the news reports had mentioned where they had escaped from. They'd escaped from a wizards prison, and likely could be anywhere in the country. If they were all supporters of Voldemort, Harry had a feeling he would not be having an uneventful school year.

Author's Note: So, what do you think. It's been a while since I wrote anything that wasn't a report, so if I've picked up any bad habits please let me know. I know that this chapter borrowed quite a bit from cannon, but I do intend to largely diverge in many areas. This won't just be third year if Snape was Harry's dad.

If now that you've reached my 'in progress' point you are looking for another story to read, I wanted to do a shout out to althor42's The Horcrux Within for which I am the Beta. It is a wonderful story so far and I'm really looking forward for the next chapter to work on.


	2. Death

A/N: Small warning, if you're bothered by gore, you might want to skip the backyard scenes.

Disclaimer: Even if Harry Potter was my own original creation, I wouldn't own the rights to it. My employer would. Yeah, my contract keeps me from writing original fiction. All props to JK Rowling.

Death

"Now if I've said it once, I've said it a dozen times, hanging's just the only thing to be done with people like this," Marge said as she sipped her tea on the sitting room sofa next to Dudley. It had been common the past couple of days to hear her talk about her opinion of the criminal justice system in the United Kingdom.

"I quite agree," Uncle Vernon said, from his armchair. "They should make the people responsible for their sentences responsible for whatever they get up to now that they've escaped." Uncle Vernon and Marge always seemed to agree on everything. It was odd to hear them discuss anything really, the two of them just reiterating each others points and both seeming to feel that the world would be such a better place if everyone else saw it as they did. From her spot on the window seat, sipping her tea, Aunt Petunia would make noises of assent now and then as the two siblings discussed the death penalty while her son Dudley sat on the couch with his aunt, stuffing his face with biscuits, his tea quite forgotten.

"Of course there are quite a number of people responsible well before that," Marge said, picking up on her brother's comment. "It isn't just murderers who get off easy, it seems everyone gets a free pass these days to just continue on in their abominable ways. Why I'd put good money down to say that if we hadn't lost the old ways we wouldn't have to deal with such riffraff. Now I can all but guarantee that all of these criminals probably started out small, and all they received was probation, and then they just got worse and worse. There was a time when they'd cut off your hand for thievery. Bring that back, and I bet you'll see the crime rate plummet."

"Too true, too true," Uncle Vernon said as he reached over to pick up a biscuit from the coffee table.

"And it's just like dog training, most people who work with dogs will tell you, you don't blame the dog, you blame the owner."

Harry didn't need to wonder what Marge's dogs said about her. They were all mean and I'll tempered.

"Of course I'm not saying you're to blame for this one here", she jerked her head towards Harry.

Harry had become well practiced that day in restraining himself from rolling his eyes. This was the fifth time during tea that he had been brought in as an example.

"I've seen you with the boy, and you are an excellent disciplinarian, Vernon, but there's an exception to every rule of course. Now and then it doesn't matter how you raise them, sometimes you just start with nothing but dross and nothing's going to polish it up."

"I know what you mean," Uncle Vernon said glaring at Harry. "Knew he was rotten from the beginning, always something off."

"Of course with parents like that what can you expect? A boy won't be much different from his father." Well Harry certainly wasn't much like Snape, but what about his dad? "I mean just look at our Dudley here," Dudley didn't even look up at the mention of his name. "He's well on his way to being a good man, just like his father."

No, harry thought, Dudley wasn't that far off from his father. He thought it amusing that Marge had just gone from arguing nurture to nature without seeming to see any contradictions. What had he gotten from his parents, he wondered. Besides his eyes from his mother and his face and hair from his father, he didn't really know of anything he could attribute to them. He had reread the letter the day before and he tried to think back, to how his parents had written the letter and what they had told him about themselves. He couldn't think of anything about them that reminded him of himself. He wished he could use his wand so that he could see what anyone else reading the letter would see, stories about his parents, probably not about unwanted pregnancies. As uncomfortable and angry as parts of that letter had made him though, it did help distract him from Marge's presence and her frequently offensive words.

"Do they use the cane on you at that school of yours boy?" Marge suddenly asked Harry. "Not that I expect that it will do anything for this one, but it is the principal after all," she added in an aside to her brother.

Harry had to remind himself that school meant St. Brutus's and not Hogwarts. He glanced at Uncle Vernon, not sure which answer to give. The man gave a brusque nod.

"Yeah," he said. "All the time."

"Clearly they aren't using enough force if you can be so blazè about it," she turned to his uncle. "You should write his school, tell them they have your permission to use extra force with this one."

Snape would probably like that, Harry thought. Actually that reminded him of his permission slip, and gave him an idea on how he could get it signed. He'd be in terrible trouble though.

"Actually," he said. "That reminds me, I'll be right back," and with that he walked out of the room and ran upstairs. He grabbed the Hogsmeade permission slip from under the loose floorboard in his room and then ran back down stairs. He picked up a pen from the kitchen before he walked back into the sitting room.

"It's the corporal punishment permission slip for St. Brutus," he said handing the form and pen to his uncle. Uncle Vernon, of course, could see exactly what the form was for, but he wasn't about to say so with his sister right across the room, and he wasn't about to not sign it either.

"You just need to check the box saying whether you give them permission to use the cane or not and then sign on the bottom."

"Make sure to let them know they can use extra force with the boy," Marge told her brother.

Uncle Vernon was giving him a murderous look and for a moment Harry was worried he'd tear the paper up regardless of Marge being there, but then he gave Harry a nasty smile and signed the form before handing it back to him.

"Well," Harry said. "I'll just go put this away with my school things, and try to stay out of trouble this school year."

Marge snorted as though she doubted that Harry had any intention of doing so.

"Petunia dear," said Uncle Vernon, "why don't you show Marge your tulips. I hear they're the envy of the neighborhood."

He didn't have much time, but he didn't really need much either. He shot upstairs and once more reached under the loose floorboard and grabbed the letters he had previously written Ron and Hermione. Hedwig flapped out of her cage, seeing the envelopes.

"Here girl, I don't have any time, so I need you to take these straight away."

Hedwig hooted and grabbed the letters securely in her talons along with the rolled up permission slip. Harry opened his window up wide and his snowy companion was off. A moment later heavy footsteps outside his room announced Uncle Vernon's arrival.

"You think you can back me into a corner boy?" His uncle thundered from the doorway. "You'll soon see that I always win. The only place that form's going is the shredder. Now hand it over."

Harry didn't know if the smile on his face was nerves or the knowledge that he had already in fact won. It certainly wasn't for what was about to happen. "I don't have it anymore, you're too late."

"To late?" His uncle bellowed, but then his eyes darted to the open window and then to Hedwig's empty cage. He slammed the door as he walked into the room.

Still worth it, Harry thought.

Later, if anyone noticed the gash over his eyebrow, or his slight limp, they didn't say anything.

IIIIIII

It was all they showed on about half of the channels on the television for a couple of days. Dudley had been throwing fits each time one of his shows failed to air. Marge said he was being assertive. Harry thought he was being insensitive, but he kept that to himself.

Though it wasn't the first thing that had hit the news since the convicts escape that Harry could attribute to wizardry, it was by far the worst. First there had been two families found gruesomely murdered in their homes, neighbors from the second one had reported strange lights and noises from the house. The next day a man in London had been found dead on the sidewalk with no apparent cause of death. The telecaster had noted that he had been dressed eccentrically. The most recent event was on an entirely different level though.

"Arson investigators initially struggled to find the source of the blaze that tore through the London Museum of Science, but are now finding pieces of a powerful incendiary device. The CTC has released an image from a nearby security camera moments before the fiery blast. They have confirmed that the man caught on camera is none other than Vladimir Hasaan, one of the five now infamous escaped convicts who have led police on a massive manhunt with nothing but dead ends."

The Dursleys, as well as the rest of the muggle world, now thought that the escaped convicts were terrorists, and Harry supposed that they were right, but none of them really knew what they were dealing with. Though if the Dursleys were concerned that a few hundred people had been burned alive, they weren't inclined to show it. It was business as usual at the Dursley's home, and since it was Marge's last night, there was to be a small party. Aunt Petunia had been in the kitchen all day preparing for the dinner and Harry had been dragged out of his room on occasion to help. When he wasn't washing dishes or stirring pots, Harry had been listening to the radio in his room trying to sort out news that tied into the wizarding world.

"Boy," his Aunt hollered up the stairs. Harry groaned as he rolled off of his bed. He hoped Aunt Petunia didn't need more potatoes peeled, he hated peeling potatoes. Harry walked down stairs, glad at least that only Aunt Petunia was home at the moment. Uncle Vernon had gone into the office for a couple of hours to handle some crisis, and Marge had taken Dudley shopping for his own presents.

"Chop those onions, and don't be sloppy about it, I want them all the same size," his aunt said as he walked into the kitchen. She could be as exacting as Professor Snape could be with his potions ingredients. His mouth curled into a frown as he thought of the man. "And watch the mixer, don't let the cream get too stiff." The stand mixer was out on the counter, whirring at full speed.

Harry got to work, hoping to be able to escape the kitchen as soon as possible, and for a while he worked in peace while Aunt Petunia made herself a sandwich for her lunch.

"Are they your sort?" she asked out of the blue.

Harry didn't need to ask who she was referring to.

"I think so," he said.

"Why can't _your sort_ just leave decent people alone, always causing problems. We'd have been well off if they'd found all of you in the Middle Ages." Harry couldn't be sure if she was upset for the people who had died, or if she was just upset to have to hear about magic encroaching on her normal world.

"They didn't find anyone in the witch hunts, they just burned a bunch of _your sort_ at the stake," he emphasized the 'your sort' the same way Aunt Petunia said it. No doubt she wished Harry would be burned at the stake. "Besides, even if they had, it wouldn't have stopped my mum being born a witch."

Aunt Petunia threw down her spreading knife and stormed over to him. "Don't you say that word in my house," Aunt Petunia hissed.

"And _which_ word is that?" Harry said, turning towards her, with an emphasis on 'which'.

She slapped him.

"Witch, witch, witch," he exploded, yelling at her for the first time he could ever remember. "Magic, hocus pocus, abra cadabra, The sky's not falling, the neighbors aren't staring, the world doesn't end when we talk about magic."

Aunt Petunia looked frightened at first when Harry went off, but then a look of fury suffused her. For a moment, Harry was worried she would grab a frying pan, or worse, a knife. He noticed belatedly that he had still been holding the chef's knife when he had been yelling at her. Yet then, out of nowhere, his aunts gaze turned to the stand mixer, still running at full speed.

"Ohhhh," she cried. "I told you to watch the mixer, why can't you just do what you're told, you horrid boy." She shut off the machine and grabbed the bowl, as though their previous argument had never happened, as if magic and her sister hadn't been brought up in the same sentence. For all that she'd seemed to hate the imagination, Aunt Petunia was very good at pretending that problems didn't exist, or in this case, replacing one with another.

"Were you trying to make butter?" she asked scathingly, scraping the bowl out into the trash. She opened the door of the refrigerator and then slammed it shut. Harry was still just staring at her, not sure if he should just pretend with her that their argument hadn't taken place.

"Here," she said, thrusting a five pound note in his face. "Take that and go pick up some more cream from the store. Heavy whipping cream, and certainly no half and half. And be quick boy, don't you dare try to ruin my dinner."

Harry just grabbed the money and walked out, grateful to be out of the house. He walked down the street at a quick pace. Now that he'd calmed down, he was immensely relieved to have gotten off so easy, it was lucky his uncle hadn't been home at the time. Still, he shouldn't be pressing his luck, the sooner he got back with the cream the sooner his aunt could forget that she was angry with him.

It was three blocks from Privet Drive that Harry noticed him, out of the corner of his eye. Someone was staring at him. He turned to look and see who it was, but no one was there. He looked around for a moment before continuing on his way. As he continued on to the store he continued to feel like someone was watching him. Twice he turned around at the sound of footsteps to find nothing. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades and he picked up his step. He dearly wished his wand wasn't in the cupboard under the stairs.

Reaching the main street, Harry was glad that he was surrounded by people. Pedestrians, motorists, and the odd bicyclist bustled about him. The feeling that he was being followed abated and he enjoyed just being in the crowd.

Walking into the market, Harry made a beeline towards the dairy and was in line at the counter less than a minute after he walked in. The checkout girl looked at him askance, and Harry didn't know if it was for his oversized hand-me-down clothing that still bore several of Dudley's food stains, or the handprint that was probably on his cheek. Harry just stared at the counter until the transaction was over. Heading towards the door, he once more took off at a fast pace, oddly enough, he wanted to be back on Privet Drive quickly. Of course all too quickly, he was off the busy street and back on the suburban streets of Little Winging. Once again, the feeling that he was being watched returned, and Harry found himself looking over his shoulder repeatedly.

"Well well well, little Harry Potter, out on his own," a gruff voice said behind him.

Harry whirled around and firmed his stance when he saw who it was. He looked slightly emaciated, and he had a slightly feral look about him, but he had a calculating look in his eye as he gazed upon Harry with a predatory air.

"I wonder what he would think if he could see you now, you look ready to piss yourself. Well I'll make you into something, you'll be the first of my new pack. I don't need to wonder what he would think of that."

Harry didn't know who 'he' was, but he knew who the man in front of him was. Fenrir Greyback, the convict the news said went after kids. Well he couldn't have Harry.

"I'm not your anything," he said angrily to the man, trying to hide just how well he knew that he was up a creek without a paddle.

The man smiled at him and took a step forward. Harry wasn't sure if he should try to run or fight, neither option seemed like it would help him very much. He put up his fists like he'd seen people do on the telly.

Greyback laughed, "you don't even have your wand out, boy. Or did you leave it at home?"

"I don't see yours," Harry challenged. The man was close, maybe he could grab his wand away from him. Though maybe, if he was lucky, Greyback hadn't gotten his hands on a wand yet and running would have a better chance.

A wand was suddenly in the man's fingers, twirling about as Harry's eyes followed it longingly before it disappeared again up his sleeve. "It's former owner didn't need it anymore," he said with a wicked grin. "But I won't need it to take you." He suddenly looked like an animal ready to pounce, and flight won out in Harry's internal debate. His hand darted out, the carton of cream sped at the man's face as Harry turned to run, but the carton was batted out of the way as the man seemed to pounce. Harry dodged and turned towards the nearest house, making a beeline for the side gate.

He could hear Greyback laughing as he gave chase, it almost sounded like a howl. Harry vaulted over the low fence and tore around the side of the house and into the backyard. He was at the back yard fence in a moment, jumping over that as well. It was perhaps fortuitous that Harry had been made to play so many games of Harry hunting when he was younger. He knew the back yards and alleys of Little Winging quite well. Of course, he still had three blocks to go to get to Privet Drive.

As he ran, jumped, and occasionally ducked his way through the back yards of Marigold Lane, Harry got the impression that Greyback was letting the chase go on longer than it should have lasted. The whole time, he felt like Greyback was right at his heels, and the sounds the man made as he hooted and hollered made it seem like he was enjoying the chase immensely.

Harry got to the end of the block and put on a burst of speed as he crossed the street. He was getting close to home where the wards were supposed to keep him safe. Yet he knew that he was flagging, he wouldn't be able to keep up the pace. The question was, could Greyback? He hopped a fence on the other side of the street, he ducked under a jungle gym and jumped over a half deflated kiddie pool. He ducked into the next yard when he was tackled to the ground. He landed hard, his glasses sat askew on his face and he felt rough hands flip him over and hold him down.

"That's close enough to your fancy wards, I think. They've been quite frustrating, I've been trying to pay you a visit for some time. So good of you to wander into my den."

Harry struggled against his grasp, but the man was on top of him and held him firm. Greyback grasped his face, and Harry could feel his long nails dig into his skin. He could see every one of his pointed teeth as he grinned down at him. He looked elated. Harry felt as though his whole being revolted at the feel of the man on top of him.

"He took everything from me, everything, and now I get the last thing he had left to care about. But you'll see boy, I'm really setting you free, you'll thank me some day. Now where will I mark you."

"Get off that boy," a woman shouted. Harry couldn't turn his head to look, but it sounded like it came from the house who's backyard he was in. He heard a sliding door open.

"Stay inside," he shouted as well as he could with Greyback clenching his face. "He's dangerous."

"I said get off of that boy, now," the woman said, ignoring Harry's warning.

Greyback grinned down at Harry and the hand grabbing his face twisted his head to the side so that Harry could see. The woman was older, maybe in her sixties, and she was carrying a fireplace poker. She was walking towards them. Greyback's other hand came up, his wand suddenly grasped in it.

"Let's have us some fun," he said nastily. Harry didn't want to see what he was going to do to her, but his head was still pinned to the side. He tried to grab the man's arm but he couldn't move it, so he started clawing at his face, digging at his eyes. Greyback snarled and backhanded Harry.

"Hey," he heard the woman shout. The next thing Harry knew, Greyback was howling in anger and leaping off of Harry. The woman, it seemed, had taken a swing at him, the hooked end of the poker had torn a rip in his arm, blood seeping out. Now it was the woman who was screaming as Greyback pounced on her. Harry scrambled to his feet, terrified as he took in the scene.

Greyback looked like a wild animal mauling the woman, who was struggling tooth and nail against the man. Then he spotted the wand; both the poker and the wand lay in the grass, forgotten by both their respective wielder in the fury of the attack. Harry quickly grabbed the wand and shouted out 'Petrificus Totalus'. The wand, it was clear, was a very poor match for Harry. Still though, it had part of the desired effect, Greyback had stopped attacking the woman. He turned his head towards Harry with a snarl, his face covered in blood not his own. Harry rather wished he had grabbed the poker rather than the wand.

Harry dove for the poker as Greyback dove for Harry. Once more the man was on top of him. Greyback's bloody face looked inhuman. And Harry used the poker braced in both hands to keep the mans gnashing teeth away from himself. Unfortunately it was a loosing battle. Greyback was fairly slim, but by a thirteen year old's standards, he weighed quite a bit, and it was all Harry could do to keep the man's mouth away from him as the man's long sharp nails clawed at him.

Greyback stiffened suddenly though, and colorful pieces of pottery rained down around him. He snarled turning around, Harry forgotten, as he turned to face the source of what had hit him over his back. He turned just in time to get hit in the face. A garden gnome, Harry noted. Harry tried to swing the poker at Greyback's distracted torso, but the leverage was all wrong and Harry was ignored. Then suddenly Greyback wasn't on top of him, and a gardener's spade sailed through where he had previously been. Harry scrambled up, ready to fight, but suddenly he was flung to the side, he hit a patio table and fell in a clatter. Greyback had his wand again, and he didn't want to toy around any longer. Greyback brought his wand down in a sharp movement and roared words that Harry didn't make out, and was glad he hadn't either; he rather didn't want to know how to make someone's chest explode. Where the woman had stood, face bloodied, already looking ready to keel over, but with another object to throw in her hand, there was now just a gory mess. Harry knew instantly that she was dead, how could she not be? He paused momentarily in getting up, and noted Greyback's gleeful look as he took in his carnage. Why hadn't she just stayed inside and called the police? If she'd only have listened, she would be alive still; and Greyback would have likely taken Harry already. Harry felt like he would throw up.

"Is everything alright over there Ms. Adler," a man's voice called over the fence. Greyback turned his wand in the direction from whence the voice had come.

"No!" Harry called. Greyback glanced his way. Harry decided he'd do the man a favor and run in the opposite direction. Luckily, that way was Privet Drive.

He was over the fence before he heard Greyback's angrily decide to leave the muggle man and pursue Harry. Once more, Harry was hopping fences, ducking under bushes, and running around swimming pools. However this time Greyback wasn't toying with him. He was gaining fast, and Harry knew that when he caught up, the chase would be over. Harry came to the last house on the block, it was a straight shot to the other side of the street, no obstacles, and it was likely where Greyback would capture him again. Yet Harry kept running. He shot out into the street, just as a black BMW turned the corner at a fast pace. The driver slammed on the brakes, but Harry knew that he was going to get hit. He jumped, landing on the hood of the car and rolling up onto the windshield. The driver started honking the horn and Harry briefly glanced inside to see that he had been hit by none other than Uncle Vernon, who was quite red and looked to be turning the air inside the car blue. He glanced behind him, Greyback had stopped when Harry had been hit, and now looked like he thought the chase was over. Harry got a foot underneath himself and leapt off the hood of the car. He was running when he hit the ground, his head turned to see what Greyback would do. Greyback didn't bother going around the car, he jumped up onto the hood and leapt off after Harry. Soon the man was right on his heels and Harry knocked over some trash cans as he raced along the side of a house to slow the man down. It did little good, Greyback was about to catch him. Harry was gasping for breath at this point. He saw up ahead, lying in the grass, a cricket bat. Time to fight, he thought. He dove for the bat, coming back up, he turned to face Greyback, ready to swing. He heard a thud, and looked just in time to see Greyback fall down. 'Had it been accidental magic?' Harry wondered. Greyback, though, was up in a flash. He put his hand up, and Harry got the bat ready. But it looked for all the world like Greyback was pushing against an invisible barrier. The blood wards, Harry realized. They had reached the edge of the blood wards and Greyback could go no further. The man howled in fury.

"Go run on home now boy. You'll be mine soon enough," Greyback said. He pulled out his wand, turned in on himself and disappeared with a crack. Off in the distance, in the direction where he had left poor Ms. Adler, he heard two more cracks. Harry dropped the bat, and turned towards Privet Drive.

IIIIII

"You dented my car boy!" His uncle roared when Harry walked through the door. The man soon had Harry pressed up against the wall.

"Where's my cream?" Aunt Petunia asked sharply, seeing Harry's empty hands.

Though he knew better than to expect it, Harry still would have liked to hear: 'Are you all right?"; "What happened to your face?"; or "Who was that man chasing you?"

"There was a man chasing me, a dark wizard," he said.

"Don't say that word in my house," Uncle Vernon yelled, back handing Harry across the face.

Harry spat out blood, not caring about his Aunt's clean floors. "Don't you get it? That doesn't matter right now. Someone's trying to kidnap me, or kill me, or something, and he killed a woman who got in his way," Harry said angrily.

"Those people?" Aunt Petunia asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "One of them at least was a supporter of the guy who killed my parents."

"Get out of my house," Uncle Vernon said coldly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I said get out of my house. You're putting us in danger, you're putting my family in danger. I've had far more than enough of you. If killers are after you, chasing you through our own neighborhood, then it's time for you to leave, and good riddance."

"No," Harry said. "The wards, he can't get through."

Marge and Dudley chose that moment to return.

"What's he done now?" Marge asked, taking in the scene.

"He has people after him," Uncle Vernon said darkly. "Drug dealers."

Marge gasped, while Dudley just looked confused. "We'll all be killed." She said.

"Which is why he's leaving," Uncle Vernon said.

"Of course," Marge said. "He must leave immediately."

"Aunt Petunia," he said, looking at her. He didn't know what he expected, but she had taken him in.

Petunia was frowning, she wouldn't look at him, she wasn't going to help.

"Fine," he said. He pushed past Uncle Vernon and ran upstairs.

"The door's down here boy," his uncle called up the stairs.

"I'm getting my stuff," Harry called back.

He ripped open the loose floorboard and shoved everything into an empty pillow case. He went down stairs where the Dursleys were all waiting. Marge was going on about Harry being rotten from the core. Harry interrupted, facing Uncle Vernon.

"I'm not leaving without it," he said.

Uncle Vernon blustered at his tone, but he turned to the cupboard under the stairs and unlocked it. Harry pocketed his wand, feeling immensely more confident with it once more in his possession. He grabbed his trunk and dragged it to the door. Aunt Marge opened it for him. Harry walked out, almost expecting to be attacked the moment he stepped outside, but that was silly. The wards had seemed to extend out about a block and a half past the house.

He turned around, not sure if there was something he should say or do, but the door was already being shut in his face.

It was stupid, he thought, to feel abandoned by the Dursleys at that moment. It was not as though they had ever cared for him. But it didn't stop him from feeling messed up to have been kicked out of the house.

What should he do, where could he go? Neither of his friends were even in the country, and he would only put them in danger besides. He should be hiding somewhere, but he hardly had any money on him, certainly not enough to live on his own until school started. He thought about trying to contact Dumbledore or the ministry, but what if they tried to make the Dursleys take him back.

Did he want to go back? No, that was even more messed up than feeling abandoned by them in the first place, he thought. He would be better off this way anyway. He didn't need them; he would manage on his own.

He would need money, so he'd have to make his way to Diagon Alley. But how would he get there? He would have to fly, he had his broom and his invisibility cloak, but what was he going to do with his trunk? Even if he could tie it to his broom, it would be horribly dangerous to try flying with it unless he used magic to make it lighter. Did he dare? He'd really be in trouble if he got kicked out of the Dursleys and Hogwarts on the same day. But wasn't evading a crazy dark wizard a good justification? But then a sickening thought occurred to him; he had done magic, he had used Greyback's wand. That though was definitely justified. He was worrying himself over nothing. Besides, the spell had been so weak, the ministry probably hadn't even picked it up. Still though, what to do with his trunk?

A thought struck him. Aunt Petunia's friend Veronica lived down the street, but Harry knew she was on vacation. The house would be empty. He could leave his trunk in the back shed and then go to Diagon Alley to get money exchanged. Then he could take a taxi back here, pick up his trunk and then go anywhere. His decision made, Harry dragged his trunk down the street and parked it inside Veronica's backyard shed. He had had to climb over the fence and unlock the gate from the other side. Fastening the cloak so that it would not flap around while he flew turned out to be quite difficult, but in less than fifteen minutes, he was up in the air. Flying wasn't as fun without the wind in his face, but after the day he had had, or rather the past weeks, it was very liberating to leave the ground. Harry had pulled out the broomstick compass that had come with the kit Hermione had gotten him for his birthday, and he knew the general direction of London. It was less than thirty miles away and on a Nimbus, the trip would be quick indeed.

A few hours later, as Harry started to get quite cold from flying so long, he reflected that he had missed a key factor. Finding London had indeed been fast, he had gotten there in less than twenty minutes. Finding the entrance to Diagon Alley in all of London, however, had turned out to be most difficult. Especially since he had very little experience navigating through London in the first place. The sun had set and it was getting dark, and Harry was getting fairly desperate. He was about ready to find a tube station and attempt to recreate his first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, when suddenly, he spotted the familiar sign. The Leakey Cauldron; he had arrived at last.

Touching down, he got off of his broom, but stayed under the cloak. He walked into the pub. He had enough for a meal, so he thought he'd warm up inside before he headed to the bank. He walked up to the counter and called for Tom, the proprietor. When the man just looked around, Harry realized that he was invisible. He pulled off the cloak with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he said. "But I..."

"Mr. Potter," the man exclaimed in a whisper. "Oh you're alive."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked, whispering with him.

"Why because you were attacked by Fenrir Greyback, and then you disappeared," the man said. "Come, and put your cloak back on, I'll take you into the private dining room. You shouldn't be seen, they could be watching out for you." The older man ushered him into the back. Harry hadn't thought anyone would know about the attack.

"Well I escaped," Harry said. "Came here."

"Well thank Merlin," Tom said. He showed Harry into a small dining room and had him sit down. "How bout a bowl of stew while I go contact the ministry, tell them to call off the search." He waved his wand and a steaming bowl appeared in front of Harry. It smelled delicious, and Harry realized that he hadn't eaten since that morning.

"Sounds great," he said. He'd rather not involve the Ministry, but if they were searching for him he supposed it was unavoidable. Tom left and Harry started eating the stew. It was as good as it smelled.

Not five minutes later though, the door burst open, and Harry nearly burst out of his skin. His wand was in his hand in a moment, but he recognized the first man who entered. He almost did a double take when he realized that it was the Minister of Magic. A man in a red robe followed him in and then old Tom followed behind.

"Oh Mr. Potter, I'm so glad to see that you're alright. You've had us quite worried," the minister said jovially.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I didn't realize you knew I'd been attacked."

"Oh, but of course we knew. Underage magic near the home of the Boy-Who-Lived. With what's going on. Of course we sent someone to investigate. We thought the worst when we saw that dead muggle, especially when people in the neighborhood reported seeing Fenrir Greyback chasing a boy of your description. Then when we checked with your relatives and they said they hadn't seen you all day. Why, he shouldn't have even been able to find where you live. No no Mr. Potter, we've been quite worried indeed. However did you escape?"

"That woman saved me," Harry said sadly. "She'd be alive right now if she hadn't intervened. I managed to get within the wards after he killed her." She really had saved him. And Harry didn't really know why. As it turned out, Marge wasn't the only one the Dursleys had sold on the St. Brutus's story. Most of the neighborhood had heard the gossip. And even if she hadn't heard about the latest rumors, Harry had had a lot of rumors following him for some time. He'd long gotten used to being the pariah of the neighborhood. Maybe she hadn't recognized him. Regardless though, she'd saved him, and she hadn't even thought of herself. Even after she had been attacked herself, she had kept on going. Harry wouldn't have had to ask her what house she was in if she had been a witch. She'd have been a Gryfindor, no doubt. She'd be alive if he had taken a different route.

"How tragic, you must be exhausted. Now Harry, I understand why you thought you had to try to contact the wizarding world, but let's get you home," he said, as though he had solved all of Harry's problems. Harry didn't think that the minister meeting the Dursleys was a good idea at all. Harry didn't think the minister was concerned with a dead muggle.

"Wait," Harry said. "I can't go back."

"Why ever not lad," the minister blustered. "I'm sure you'll be safe there."

"Well..." Harry thought. "It wouldn't be safe for them," Harry said. "Greyback said he'd been waiting for me to leave the wards. What if he sees my uncle on the way to his work, or my aunt on the way to the market? He could hurt them. But if I'm here, he'll stop hanging around the Dursley's home."

"Would he be safe here?" asked Tom.

"Well of course he'll be safe, said the Minister jovially, "That's what I keep telling the public. The Ministry has the situation under control. Diagon Alley is safe. Why, did you look at your dining room Tom? Filled with people, because they know the Ministry will protect them. This isn't the old days with You-Know-Who, these are five individuals who'll soon be caught, you mark my words."

The man in the red robes frowned but he didn't say anything to contradict the Minister of Magic. Tom was nodding though.

"Now," said the Minister. "Dimitri here will take a look at some of those injuries. Greyback certainly put you through the ringer."

"You weren't bitten, were you?" Dimitri spoke for the first time.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"Greyback didn't bite you, did he?" The man asked.

"No," Harry shook his head. "He tried, probably would have too. But it's like I said. That woman saved me."

He wasn't sure why the man looked at him so seriously while he answered.

"Yes," said the Minister. "Well I'll be off, plenty to do."

With that, Fudge walked out. Dimitri pulled out a bottle of some potion and flicked his wand at it. Some of the potion zipped out and smeared itself on his face. Not at all pleasant, but his face started to feel better.

"Anything else?" the man asked.

"Um, there's some scratches on my arms," Harry said, holding them up. He was pretty sore all over from the car, but it wasn't like anything was broken.

His arms received the same treatment and the man left brusquely.

"Alright," Tom said. "Why don't you finish that stew, and I'll get your room ready."

Harry happily dug into the stew. Things were looking up. He wasn't at the Dursleys anymore, it looked like he'd have the run of Diagon Alley until school started, and Harry would be able to do his homework in peace.

At that thought though Harry groaned. He had left his trunk in Surrey. He didn't look forward to going to get that. He got up. He'd go tell Tom he had some errands to run in the alley. No need to start another search. Still though, better than one more night with the Dursleys. Though he'd go back and spend the rest of the summer there if he could take back what had happened to Ms. Adler.

IIIIIII

"Headmaster, the Potter boy..." Professor Severus Snape started as he ran into the office of Albus Dumbledore.

"Is safe and sound," the old man said calmly. "Or at least he has not been injured seriously or captured. He will, however, be spending the rest of the summer holidays in Diagon Alley."

"What?" Snape demanded, not taking the seat that his mentor indicated to him.

"It seems that after escaping from Fenrir Greyback, Mr. Potter made his way to Diagon Alley. The Minister himself went to see him there, to assure that Harry was alright. Somehow, in the end it was decided to leave Harry at the Leaky Cauldron. It seems that Harry is convinced that his presence on Privet Drive will endanger his family."

"The boy must be behind the wards, he will not be safe in Diagon Alley."

"Alas, I did implore Cornelius to change his mind, but he would not budge. I do believe that he wishes for Harry to be a symbol of the continued safety of the alley. There are of course several Aurors guarding the alley, but I do agree that in this climate, Harry needs more protection. Fenrir Greyback spent twenty years evading the ministry before his capture, and Bellatrix Lestrange would have no qualms killing Harry in front of a dozen Aurors. No, I will not feel well until Harry is once more behind the wards of Hogwarts."

"And until then?" Severus asked.

"Until then, I have faith that you will fulfill your oath to your utmost ability," Albus said with confidence.

Snape groaned.

"Does it grate on you, after all this time?" the headmaster asked.

"Potter grates on me," was Snape's only response.

"Do not worry about your start of term duties, I will purchase any potions that you do not have time to restock."

"I'll be needing more Polyjuice," Snape said as he stalked out of the office.

A/N: Well, what did you think. Action isn't really my forté, but I think this turned out well. I hope you like where this is going, and that you'll find some good fics to read before I post again.


	3. Masks

AN - Hey, welcome back. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, there were some scenes that were a real pleasure to write.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That would be slavery. JK Rowling does own him however and I think we should start a society to address this issue.

Masks

Being able to walk down the winding path of Diagon Alley was a freedom that he quite enjoyed. The sun was shining, but it was a relatively cool day and the friendly hustle and bustle of the wizarding shopping district gave Harry a vague sense of anonymity. Indeed, he hadn't had anyone stare at him or his forehead since he had walked out the back of the Leaky Cauldron.

It had been a year since he had last walked the alley, and while there were many new products for sale and a few new storefronts, nothing really had changed. Harry wondered if he were to travel back in time a hundred years, if the alley would look as it did now.

Harry saw a silly little children's toy in one of the windows and went over to get a closer look. It was a small figure dancing whimsically about, every few moments it would pop, and take on a new appearance; new clothes, a new face. From its hands, feet, and head, strings led upward, so very high up, where Harry couldn't see. It wasn't anything Harry wanted, it had only caught his eye as a curiosity. The more he looked at it though, the more it made him uncomfortable. He couldn't say why, but the sight was beginning to disturb him. There was a sick sensation in his stomach.

Pop

Black disheveled hair, glasses, green eyes, and a scarred forehead. Harry turned around to see if anyone else was looking at the display window. He turned back around.

Pop

He saw his reflection in the window this time, and suddenly he knew why no one had been staring at Harry Potter. The green eyes and glasses were still there, now shrouded in long, black, greasy hair over a large hooked nose. He gasped when he realized the resemblance. Suddenly it wasn't sunny; a dark cloud rapidly moved in overhead, blocking the sun. The air chilled and his breath fogged up the window in which he was staring at his bizarre appearance. He looked around to see what everyone else thought about the rapid change.

No one seemed to notice, but where previously the hustle and bustle had been pleasant, it was suddenly crowded and overwhelming. There were people milling about everywhere, walking quickly, not stopping to look at the windows.

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Harry turned around to look back into the window. Despite everything else, he was relieved to see that he once more looked like himself. Someone bumped into him, then someone else, neither person turning around to apologize. The stream of people increased, and Harry soon found himself pressed against the side of the building trying to keep out of everyone's way. Someone bowled him over. He fell hard, scraping his palms and knees. He looked up.

This time the man stopped and turned around, and Harry froze. The tall man loomed over him and looked at him with loathing and disgust.

"What are you doing with my face?" James Potter demanded.

Harry gaped at him for a moment. "You gave it to me," he finally said.

"I didn't give my face to a killer," the man said contemptuously.

"No, that wasn't my fault. Greyback killed her," Harry said desperately, still sprawled on the cobbled street.

"You led him right to her," his father said accusingly.

"I tried to warn her; she wouldn't save herself," Harry cried.

"_You_ should have saved her," his father said, his voice laced with disappointment and scorn.

"I tried," Harry said desperately. "The wand didn't work."

"No," his voice thundered. "_You_ didn't make the wand work, _you_ failed. You might as well have killed her yourself. You should be with Greyback now. It was all your fault. You deserve what he did to you and more. You could have stopped him. You had the power to stop him but you wouldn't let your magic work. It's all your fault, all of it, everything he did, everything you did. You deserve him and worse, and you don't deserve to be my son."

Harry's insides felt as cold as the chilly air around him. "No," he said, though he knew he had no defense. "No, I saved that man. I led Greyback away from him."

"You ran away, you coward," James Potter spat. "I'm glad I'll never have to see you again." He turned away.

"No, wait," Harry called out, his hand outstretched. But no one was there. He was alone in the alley, still sprawled on the ground. He brought his knees up towards his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. He tried very hard to forget what he had just heard. Why couldn't he forget it?

Suddenly, someone grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him up. He found himself pressed up against the window he had previously been looking through, looking into the angry face of Severus Snape.

"You can't forget it though, can you," he hissed. "You can't forget me. You will always know."

"It doesn't matter. You're still nothing to me," Harry shouted into the man's face, not caring how much bigger the man who had him pressed up against the wall was.

"I could have been," he said, now sadly.

"You wouldn't have cared!" Harry accused.

"You'll never know," Snape said, disinterestedly.

"Good!" Harry yelled in his face.

Snape's features twisted in disgust.

"Mudblood," the man spat. Suddenly Snape burst into a thousand fluttering bats who swarmed around Harry, scratching at his face and arms, before disappearing.

No sooner had the bats gone then Harry saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. He turned in time to see a woman with red hair disappear around a bend in the alley.

"Wait," he called out, now running after her. She would understand, she would still care.

He turned the same bend she had disappeared behind, just in time to see her disappear around another. On and on he ran, never quite catching up, never seeing more than a glimpse of her around the corner, but he had to keep running. He could never stop running.

He turned a corner and ran into...something. The chill was gone, and he knew he didn't have to run anymore. He knew he was safe. He closed his eyes and everything faded.

Waking up was gradual. It took him a moment to gather his bearings. He was in his room, in the Leaky Cauldron. It had all been a dream.

Of course it had been, he thought. His parents were dead and Snape didn't know anything. Neither of those things were going to change. He briefly thought about what his father would have thought if he had seen what had happened the day before in Little Winging before dismissing the thought. He knew he hadn't killed that woman, Greyback had. Still though, he felt bad that she had died because of him. James Potter would have probably fought Greyback from the get go. Harry wished he still had Greyback's wand. He wanted to know if the wand had just been a poor match or if he, Harry, had failed in casting the spell against Greyback. There was nothing for it though, he'd just have to make due not knowing.

He rubbed the last of the sleep out of his eyes and scratched behind one of his ears before he looked at the clock. Time For Lunch, it said in blurry letters. He'd slept through the morning. Of course he had been up all night getting his trunk. That, luckily, had gone off without a hitch, though Tom hadn't exactly been happy when he realized that Harry had gone back to Surrey, and Harry had now promised multiple times not to leave Diagon Alley.

Harry grabbed his glasses and got ready for his day. Pulling a school robe on over his muggle clothes, Harry made his way down stairs and greeted Tom who had him seated at the bar with a sandwich and chips moments later.

"So what did they do?" Harry asked Tom as the man cleaned up behind the bar after the lunch crowd. He really had slept in rather late.

"Who?" Tom asked, though Harry thought he knew very well who.

"The five who escaped from prison," he said. "I think I've heard of one of them being a follower of Voldemort." Tom flinched which Harry tried to ignore. "But what about the rest of them?"

"Well, it really isn't a very pleasant story now, is it. They were all supporters of _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_. All of them except Greyback were Death Eaters," Tom said.

"Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"His most loyal followers, the ones who killed for him. Not that Greyback didn't kill for him, but He wasn't going to give his mark to a werewolf, now was he?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "A werewolf?"

"Yes," Tom said. "Worse than following You-Know-Who, he's been a menace for some time. Purposely turning people, especially children. He had a pack for a while, those were bad times besides all of You-Know-Who's business. Most of them were captured though, or killed. Those five who escaped were all captured in the weeks after you got rid of Him. They all committed atrocities, I don't mind not telling you about over your lunch, or ever for that matter. The aurors will deal with them now, don't you worry about them. You just stick to the alley, they won't show their faces here where everyone would know them."

Harry readily agreed not to go out into muggle London while he thought about what he had just heard. It was easy enough for Tom to tell him not to worry, but Harry had a werewolf after him who wanted to turn him. Did Greyback blame Harry for getting caught? DId he think he would never have been caught if Voldemort had never been vanquished? The man had talked about someone else, someone who had cared about Harry. Had this other person captured Greyback? If so, who, and where were they now?

"Well now, off with ya," Tom said. "Go enjoy the alley."

Harry realized he had finished his food. He thanked Tom and walked out back, tapping the brick wall to get into the alley.

Much as in his dream, the alley hadn't changed much since the year prior. Harry's first stop was Quality Quiditch Supplies of course, but by the time he returned to the Leakey Cauldron that evening, he had explored the whole length of the alley, something he hadn't been able to do the two other times he had been in the alley. There had been something odd though. He had begrudgingly gotten used to the red robed Aurors every which way looking at him, as though they were waiting for someone to attack him. There was someone else though, or several someone else's who were doing the opposite. It had taken him a while to notice the first one, but by the time he reached Madame Malkin's, he realized that the same sandy haired man had been in his vicinity for a while. Oddly though, he seemed to be watching everything but Harry. The man was constantly scanning the crowd and the rooftops, looking into every shadow and side way. About an hour after he had noticed him, another man took his place when Harry wasn't looking. Still always in Harry's vicinity, still looking every which way, with the same blank disinterested look on his face. So Harry figured the Aurors who were supposed to be watching the alley were watching Harry, and whoever was supposed to be watching him was watching the alley. Harry figured if whoever was supposed to keep an eye on him didn't want to introduce themselves, then Harry wasn't about to strike up a conversation. It wasn't as though he needed a child minder.

He made it back to the Leakey Cauldron a little after the dinner rush and, thoroughly exhausted, ate his supper and went to bed.

IIIIIIIII

Even though he started to spend most of his time catching up on his summer homework, the days following his arrival at the alley seemed to fly by pretty quickly. It helped that said homework was being done worry free, now that he was away from the Dursleys. It helped even more that there were a few denizens of the alley who occasionally helped him with said homework. Though he'd never say so to Ron, or Hermione for that matter, it was actually enjoyable to do a History of Magic essay seated outside a shop on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Of course it helped that said shop was an open aired ice cream parlor whose proprietor was an amateur historian who made learning about the inception of the International Confederation of Wizards sound exciting. It also really helped that said proprietor, Florean Fortiscue gave Harry free sundays while Harry worked.

"Now you see," Mr. Fortiscue said excitedly. "The death of Nathaniel Gladwell didn't only clear the way for Elton Finch to lead the delegation from Scotland, it brought some of his biggest opponents onto his side. Of course Finch would be the one to bring forward the Dewey-Trent Compact, which many historians think was the only thing to stand in the way, later, of the Dark Lord Rhineheart. A century of history altered, because one man found himself in a duel the night before the first confederation."

"What was the duel about?" Harry asked between hastily scribbled notes.

"Ah, now that is a story, isn't it. You see, there had been a gala the night prior to the duel at the Gladwell estate. Now who was it?" Mr. Fortiscue ran into the back of his shop and started searching for a scroll. He came back, scroll in hand. "Ah yes, According to the scholar Eaton Thump, Miss Julia McKay, betrothed to Gladwell's soon to be killer, Aston Bradley showed up to the party wearing robes of a similar color and design to Mrs. Gladwell. Mr. Gladwell came up on her from behind, mistook her for his wife, and became quite familiar with her before he realized his mistake. Bradley demanded satisfaction and found it the next morning. Gladwell had been something of an isolationist, and would never have helped strengthen the ties between the northern and southern factions of Britain. Everything changed because two women had the same taste in evening attire."

Mr. Fortiscue had a broad grin on his face as he told the story, Harry could tell he really loved the complexities of history.

"Are there a lot of stories like that?" Harry asked. "Where something small made a big impact on history."

"Why Mr. Potter, if there's one thing I've found while studying history, it's that we are all just one mistimed sneeze away from causing the next Great War, or from stopping one. Now have you ever heard the tale of Alal Myre and the great dragon escape of ten eighty eight?"

Harry was about to answer in the negative when a small gaggle of children entered the shop with one very tired looking witch. Fortiscue's eyes lit up even more and he was soon behind the counter, happily talking to his customers, his hands flying about, assembling their decadent confections.

"Ah hah," Mr. Fortiscue's voice carried over the babble of the children in response to something one of them had said. "And just who's birthday is it?"

"Mine," said a little boy, raising his hand. "I turned seven," he said, holding up six fingers before correcting himself. Harry smiled to himself. Even with the Dursleys, there'd been an innocence to being seven that he missed. He'd lost it soon enough, growing up in that household.

"Well now, what flavor does the birthday boy want."

"Strawberry," the boy said excitedly.

"Well that strawberry's just going to have to come with my extra special birthday treacle." The boy's eyes lit up as the sugary syrup was drizzled over the ice cream. The frozen treat was topped with whipped cream and handed to the little boy. A few minutes later the children and the mother of the birthday boy headed out to Quality Quiditch, the children all excitedly talking about their favorite teams.

"Now, where were we?" Mr. Fortiscue asked.

"Dragons," Harry said.

"Ah yes, dragons," The historian said, hurrying to the back to his scrolls. "Have you ever wondered where the Hogwarts motto came from?"

IIIIII

A couple of hours later, Harry walked out of the ice cream parlor with his book bag over his shoulder. Spotting a likely candidate for this hours watcher, Harry gave a cheery wave and was quite surprised to get a very cheerful wave back. The watcher had never waved back before, or even acknowledged Harry's existence. Harry looked around for another likely candidate but didn't spot any. The odd thing was, the watcher was never the same, but always acted the same. Over the days since Harry had taken up residence in the alley, there had always been a watcher when he left his room, wether he was in the dining room of the Leakey Cauldron or all the way at the other end of the alley. Yet the watcher changed every hour, and he had never seen the same watcher twice. It was always someone new, and he never saw them make a switch. He only ever knew who it was because they all acted the same. The same blank expression, the same roving eyes, the same fluid gait, always ignoring Harry when it was him they were following.

The Aurors littering the alley were a different story though, Harry knew most of them by sight if not by the name on their badges, and many of them would give him a polite nod as they kept their watch on the alley.

Harry passed Tooling's Charm Stop, a store he had only visited twice, but always caught his eye, and was often on his mind. Jane Tooling owned and worked the shop, where she performed complex charms work for clients and sold a variety of charmed items. He had gone in with some questions for his charms homework. He hadn't needed much, he was decent at charms, but he had been fascinated with the variety of useful objects in the store; items that were very handy for an underage wizard who couldn't do magic outside of school. Still though, he had lived so long without money, as though he were truly impoverished, that while often tempted, he rarely splurged on items he thought were pricy, even when he could afford to. Harry had made one exception though, an item he would have dearly liked to have had when he was escaping privet drive, a shrinking sticker. He could just slap it on his trunk and then put it in his pocket.

However, it wasn't the many fascinating items that kept him thinking about the shop. The thing was, the spell his mother had written about, the one that would tell him if the charms that managed his hemophilia needed to be strengthened, was something that he could easily ask Madame Tooling to cast on him for a small fee, but then Harry wasn't sure he wanted anyone to know that he had the illness. What if someone put it all together. He didn't want anyone to know that he was in any way shape or form related to Snape, and he would be damned if he would give anyone reason to talk like that about his mother. It was just a little maddening not knowing if he was on the brink of bleeding to death or not. Harry passed the shop without going in.

Harry made his way further down the alley and stopped at the apothecary. He didn't spend half as much time there as he did at the ice cream parlor, for obvious reasons, but Mr. Ashwinder had been a big help in understanding his potions homework. He didn't have the same flare for describing potions that Mr. Fortiscue had for history, but he certainly knew the subject well, and he had a lot more patience for questions than Professor Snape did.

"Now what questions do you have for me today Mr. Potter?" Mr. Ashwinder asked as Harry entered the shop.

"Umm," Harry started trying to remember the terms from his book. "I'm having trouble understanding Bates third formula."

"Howard Bates or Erman Bates?" Mr. Ashwinder asked.

"There's two of them?" Harry asked.

"They were brothers, both of them potions researchers, and both of them, unfortunately, have third formulas."

"Um," Harry pulled out his potions book and flipped through, finding the right page. "Erman Bates," he said.

"Ah, yes, Erman Bate's third formula is used to adjust the aqueous ratio in potions. Now, at school, you brew potions in a highly controlled environment with highly standardized ingredients. As well, most of the potions you will have brewed so far are not highly sensitive to the subtle differences. But when you brew some of the more volatile potions, you must make adjustments based on elevation, ambient moisture, temperature, and the aqueous density of the potions ingredients used."

"The book didn't really explain how to use the formula," Harry said.

"What book are you using?" Mr. Ashwinder asked.

"Intermediate Potions Brewing for Students," Harry said looking at the cover of his book. "It's the book assigned for the class."

"That book used to be called The Home Reference Guide for Intermediate Potions Brewers," Mr. Ashwinder said with a grimace. "It was written as a reference guide for those already competent with potions. I dare say the publisher changed the name to expand their sales."

Harry could just imagine Snape reading the book, thinking it made sense to him, and assigning it to his students. That was by and large how he taught.

"Do you have a book that could better explain the formula?" Harry asked.

"Top shelf on the right, Anna Morrellie's Subtle Science. That should be a good supplement to what you have."

Harry walked over to the book section and quickly found what he was looking for, glad for an excuse to buy something. While Mr. Fortiscue and Mr. Ashwinder were both very knowledgeable about their respective subjects, Harry could tell that Mr. Ashwinder wasn't as enthusiastic to be playing the summer tutor as Mr. Fortiscue, so Harry always made sure to buy something when he came to pester the man so he wouldn't feel like he was being too much a bother. He did have several more stirring rods, beakers and potions ingredients than he really needed, though.

Harry wondered how many other students would be able to accurately explain Bate's third principle, and what Snape's face would look like when he read Harry's summer essays. With Mr. Ashwinder's help, they were turning out rather well. Snape would probably still find a reason to give him a bad grade.

"Does Professor Snape ever buy stuff here?" Harry asked. He had been wondering if he would run into the man at some point in the alley. Really, he half expected to see the man every time he visited the apothecary. Not that he wanted to, of course. The less he had to see Snape the better. He looked at the door a moment wondering if the man would suddenly walk in.

"Oh he drops in from time to time. Though he owl orders mostly. Waldorf's in Hogsmead may be more convenient, but they can't beat my selection," he said proudly.

Harry payed for the book and walked towards the door. "Thanks for the help Mr. Ashwinder," he called over his shoulder, right before he walked into someone.

"Mr. Potter," Snape's cold drawl cut off the apology that was on the tip of his tongue. Harry's head snapped back around to face the man who now towered over him. "I should think that with people out at this very moment for your blood, you would have the sense to watch where you are going."

Harry just stared up at him, frozen, his mind blank. Their eyes locked for a moment until Snape broke away with a smirk. He walked past Harry as if he had forgotten that he was there. Harry turned to follow him with his gaze before he shook himself and walked out the door angry with himself.

He wasn't some little kid, and he wasn't afraid of Snape or anything, so why had he frozen up just from seeing him?

Harry walked down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron with a scowl on his face. He wished he had said something to the man, though he didn't know what.

IIIIIIII

_Of course I would have to run into the boy on the one day off I've had in over a week_, Severus Snape thought, his dower face souring.

"It must be nice having students like that in your classroom," Alexander Ashwinder said from behind the counter.

"I beg your pardon," 'Xander wasn't much one for being facetious, and Severus usually attempted to reign himself in when he dealt with the man, so it was odd to hear him speak so.

"Students like Mr. Potter," 'Xander said in all seriousness. "He's quite studious and inquisitive. He's been in here almost every day with questions about potions making and ingredient properties. It must be nice to have students who care about the subject."

"I do hope you haven't been doing his homework for him," Severus glowered. It would be just like Potter to take the easiest route and get all of the answers from someone else rather than a book. Since Granger wasn't around, he supposed the boy had turned to bothering the people of Diagon Alley for the answers to his summer work.

"Of course not," 'Xander glared. "I'd be charging him for that. I just point him in the right direction. He just bought Subtle Science for further reference."

"Morrellie spoon feeds the reader; students need to work for knowledge, they need to use their brains."

'Xander chuckled. "That explains it. How did the moonglow work out for you?" he asked, changing the subject before Severus could ask what had been explained.

"I'm sure it would have worked out fine if the fire bulbs hadn't been disturbed by our resident poltergeist the evening they were supposed to bloom," he said with a scowl. Moonglow was very rare and didn't last more than a few days, and fire bulbs only bloomed once every month. It would be a while before he would be able to attempt the Starlight Elixir again.

"I could have had some on hand if you'd ordered ahead of time."

"I prefer to collect my own ingredients when I can," Severus sighed. "That being said, I've heard rumor that Arlington Grove managed to get a good cross of nightshade and kingsbane this year and I need you to place an order for me. With a reputable cultivator," he added.

"Don't want to make the trip out there and collect some yourself?" 'Xander asked with a wry grin.

"For an ingredient this rare and as difficult as it is to collect it properly, I would gladly put up with a trip to the states. However, I do not currently have the time to do so." It was entirely Potter's fault that he did not have the time, and if some incompetent American cultivator sent him bad ingredients he would gladly find an excuse to give the boy a detention.

"I'll see what I can do, and owl you when I've got something set up. Did you need anything else? Maybe some wolfsbane," he said pointing to a shelf that was almost empty.

"Wolfsbane? Why should I need any of that?" Severus asked.

"Well there is a savage werewolf on the loose you know," 'Xander said with a grin.

Severus took another glance at the almost bare shelf. "I suppose the good witches and wizards of Britain think that belladonna will protect them from Greyback."

"I keep telling them they'd practically have to shove it down his throat to do any good, but they still buy it like it's going to keep them safe," 'Xander seemed to find the whole thing very amusing.

"And you're selling it at a galleon an ounce?" Severus asked, having noticed the sign below the plant that grew like a weed.

"The market adjusted, and I adjusted with it," 'Xander said with a shrug.

Severus shook his head with a grimace, the world would be such a better place if it wasn't filled with incompetent idiots. 'Xander of course just thought the whole thing to be some sort of joke.

"Well then, I look forward to your owl," he said, turning to go. "And do take care. You may be unlikely to cross paths with Greyback, but Hasaan would gladly terrorize the alley."

"Now a Death Eater would have to be insane to set foot in the alley with as many aurors as there are keeping us safe here."

"Hasaan is insane," Severus said as he walked out.

IIIIIII

Disturbingly, Harry had been all but unable to stop thinking about Snape that evening. The man was less than nothing to him. But he had been something to his mother, Lily. What had she seen in him? Was there something he hadn't seen in the man, something that would have made him worthy of his mother's love.

In the letter, his mother had said that Snape had had a horrible childhood. Maybe she had used that to excuse his horrible personality. But there had to have been some redeeming quality about him, or else, what did that say about his mother.

Besides, Harry had had a rather horrid childhood, and he wasn't anything like Snape. Though there was one area where Harry had to admit he paralleled with Snape. Snape had stopped Harry from falling off of his broom in first year. He had gone out of his way to save Harry, like Harry had saved Ginny during his second year. It may have been that Snape was just trying to settle an old score with James Potter when he did it, but that had to say something for the man, didn't it? Of course then there was the fact that both of them had worked in Harry's first year to stop Voldemort from getting the Philosophers Stone.

Yet these things only said that Snape wasn't all bad, not that he was a good guy. He certainly wasn't a nice guy, and when it came to qualities that Harry looked for in a father, not being the absolute worst person on Earth wasn't really a qualifier. Not that he was looking for some sort of father figure. He was beyond needing anything like that. He didn't need a father, and he certainly didn't need Snape.

Two days later, and the third time since his run in with Snape that he found himself leaving the apothecary without seeing the man and he was annoyed with himself for being disappointed.

"Hey Harry, over here," A familiar voice called out as Harry was walking out of the apothecary. He turned around and spotted Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quiditch Team Captain.

"Hey Oliver," Harry said, running over to the older teen, banishing the thoughts that had been mulling in his head.

"Have you been to Quality Quiditch yet?" Oliver asked.

"Only about a dozen times since I got here," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. He might not be as enthusiastic about the sport as Oliver, but Quiditch was still the most fun he had ever had, full stop."

"No, I meant today," Oliver said, grabbing Harry's arm and enthusiastically dragging him a few shops down. "You haven't seen it yet."

"Seen what," said a slightly exasperated Harry.

"This," said Oliver with reverence, stopping in front of the Quality Quiditch display window.

"Wow," said Harry.

"I know, right?" Oliver said, with a goofy grin. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Harry said. It was. Harry had never seen a broom like it before, and he owned a racing broom. "The Firebolt," the blazing letters proudly proclaimed.

"I've been reading about it in Witch Broomstick for weeks," Oliver said. It's supposed to far outstrip the Nimbus line. Today's the first time they've been publicly available, the leagues have been buying them as fast as they can make them. Can you imagine if our team all had these. Or even just you Harry. You'd be unbeatable."

"Price upon request," Harry pointed out, having read the bottom of the poster board behind the broomstick. "I think even Lucious Malfoy would choke on the price of equipping a whole team." Though Harry might be able to afford one, if he wanted to drain his vault. It was actually really rather tempting when Harry thought about it.

"Yeah, but just imagine," Oliver said.

"Yeah well, just imagine Slytherin after we kick their butts for a second year in a row, with the same teams and the same brooms," Harry said with a grin.

"We'll it's Hufflepuff I'm worried about this year," Oliver said.

"Hufflepuff? We steamrolled them last time," Harry said.

"Last time was two years ago, it's practically a whole new team, and Diggory's no slouch," Oliver said, after he figured out the muggle word.

"Diggory?" Harry asked, unfamiliar with the Hufflepuff player.

"He made seeker last year, now he's captain of the team this year," Oliver said.

"He made captain after one year?"

"From what I've heard he was practically captain last year. Jenkins was so busy with NEWTS, Diggory pretty much took over all of the responsibilities."

"Is he a good seeker?" Harry asked.

"He's a bit big for the position, but he's a really good flyer. Really, he's a bit like you. Though you're better. I've never seen anyone outside the league fly like you," Oliver said, ruffling Harry's Hair. Harry blushed at the compliment.

"So what about Ravenclaw this year?" Harry asked

"Another team we haven't played in a while," Oliver said. "Actually, come to think about it, you've never played them. But don't worry, I took careful notes last year during their games against Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Thing is, they'll have a new captain this year and two new players to boot. We'll have to wait and see who gets chosen during their try outs."

"Anyone I should look out for?" Harry asked.

"Brian Turner has a good arm, and he always targets seekers," Oliver said.

"As long as no one curses the bludger," Harry said. "I think the Weasleys can keep me safe."

"Their seeker's not bad," Oliver went on with his assessment. "Not great, mind, but definitely not bad. Her name's Cho Chang"

"Well we'll beat them all this year," Harry said. Though the last two years, something had always come up to stop them from playing all of the games of the season.

Oliver shook his head. "This is my last year Harry. It doesn't matter that we have the best team. We have to train the hardest, we have to want it more than anyone else."

"That shouldn't be any trouble, with you as our captain," Harry said with a grin. "We won't let you leave Hogwarts without the cup. Even if we have to sabotage your grades so you'll have to come back next year."

"Don't tempt me," Oliver said.

"Let's stop looking at brooms we can't afford and go get some ice cream," Harry said.

Oliver shrugged and they turned towards Fortescue's.

"So are you going to go for the league when you graduate?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Oliver said. "I've already..." He stopped talking with an abrupt yell of "Hey!" as a stranger in a cloak barged in between them, bumping into Harry.

Harry stumbled and the stranger grabbed his arm to steady him, or so he thought. The next moment, he was being roughly turned around, so he could face the man who had grabbed him. Harry tried to grab for his wand, but found his whole torso wrapped up in the man's large arms. He looked up, and gasped.

Though the face was different, there was no mistaking those sharp pointy teeth, or the predatory grin. It was Greyback.

"Activate," Greyback said, and Harry suddenly felt a tug behind his naval. Suddenly there was a bright flash and a bang and Harry and Greyback were flung apart violently. As Harry flew through the air, he watched as Greyback disappeared into nothing with a furious look on his face.

The landing on top of a display table of used books was very rough, but Harry was up on unsteady feet with his wand in his hand as soon as he had his bearing.

Rough hands grabbed him and he brought his wand up, a hex on his lips until he saw who it was. It was his watcher. The man didn't say a word. He just looked Harry up and down, let go, and walked away, blending in to the crowd of onlookers. Two red robed Aurors were making their way through the throng towards Harry. Oliver was suddenly in front of Harry.

"Are you all right?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "What happened? How'd we get blasted apart like that?"

"It was that same man who came up to you just now, he cast something at the two of you."

"What happened to Greyback? That didn't look like apparition."

"That was Greyback?" Oliver asked.

Harry nodded.

"Well that looked like a portkey, he was probably trying to drag you with him when he activated it," Oliver explained.

Harry was about to ask what a portkey was, when the Aurors arrived. The two boys were separated and Harry was taken to the Leakey Cauldron, while the whole of Diagon Alley and the surrounding area were searched.

IIIIIII

There was hardly anyone in the Leakey Cauldron when Harry woke up the next morning. He looked around as he walked to his normal seat at the bar, as if he would find all of the patrons who usually busied the pub hiding behind one of the tables. Of course he didn't need to look far for his watcher, he tried giving a wave and was rewarded by being completely ignored.

"Where is everyone?" he asked Tom as he took his seat. Tom he noticed looked fairly grim.

"Ah, well, there was an incident in Hogsmeade yesterday evening. One of the Death Eaters," Tom didn't much look like he wanted to carry on.

"What happened, was anyone hurt?" Harry asked.

Tom hesitated.

"Oy, I thought this came with three eggs, not two," someone said across the room.

"Ah, be right over," Tom called back. "Here you go," he said to Harry, dishing up a plate of breakfast for the boy. He didn't come back to the bar while Harry was eating.

On his way out of the Leakey Cauldron, he passed by his watcher.

"Thanks," Harry said, knowing he wouldn't get any response.

The two Aurors monitoring traffic into Diagon Alley didn't try to stop Harry; he still had the run of the alley, though now he had to wear a necklace with a charm to block portkeys. Harry had learned all about portkeys the night before while he waited for the Aurors to finish their work.

Harry tapped the bricks to get through the wall, and found that the alley was similarly deserted. Harry thought there might just be more Aurors than there were shoppers. He didn't need to look to see that his watcher had followed him out; walking as if he had absolutely nothing to do with Harry. He wondered what would happen if he took off running, or if he tried to head down Knockturn Alley.

There was a news stand not far from the Leaky Cauldron, and it didn't take Harry long to see what had even the Aurors on watch in the Alley looking grim.

'Hogsmead Auror Adjunct Office Incinerated By Death Eater,' the headline said. Harry just stared at it for a moment before he quietly bought a copy and went to read it in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't feel like spending the day roaming the alley.

Three Aurors and ten office workers had been killed by fiend fire. A few people had escaped with minor injuries. The article noted that it was lucky so many had been deployed at the time or more might have been in the building when it was attacked. The Aurors thought that Hasaan was behind the attack, since fiend fire was what he had used to attack the muggle museum.

Harry's attempts to work on his homework that day were frequently interrupted with day dreams about running into Hasaan in the alley. These turned into thoughts about Greyback and the rest of the Death Eaters. What was stopping any of them from setting the Leakey Cauldron ablaze like they had the Auror building? Was he putting everyone in danger just by being here?

By the end of the day, Harry realized that how he saw the wizarding world had been changing since he was eleven. When he'd been younger, and going to Hogwarts for the first time, everything had felt like jumping into a fairy tale. A magic castle, an evil wizard. He had seen the wizarding world with a rather simplistic view, and anything that didn't fit into it had seemed distant. Now it wasn't just a magic school and an evil wizard. It was a magical community, with a government and prisons and a police force. That evil wizard had an organization, the Death Eaters, and right at that moment they were lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. At least one of them was waiting to strike at Harry.

That night he dreamed of a massive world where he was very small. Every way he looked, something lurked in the shadows. Harry walked up so he was right next to one of the towering buildings before he suddenly leapt back in fright. Where his fingers touched, the building caught ablaze. The fire was spreading quickly. He took a few more steps back, only to look at the ground in horror. Wherever his feet landed, they left fire in their wake. The fire spread like little rivers running through the cobblestone. the fire was coming for him. He turned and started to run. The buildings around the first one were on fire too. He ran and he ran, leaving footsteps of spreading fire behind him. Whenever he looked over his shoulder, everything behind him was in flames. He ran and ran, but he was so very small, and he could not go very fast. Suddenly the fire was all around him, he had nowhere left to run.

Harry woke to Hedwig nibbling on his ear. She did this from time to time, when he had bad dreams. Harry stroked her feathers for a while, half awake, half asleep, before he fell into a restless sleep.

IIIIII

When Harry woke the next morning, he knew what he had to do. If crazy murderers were after him, then he had no business putting anyone else in danger. He could just imagine the Leakey Cauldron in flames with a laughing Death Eater outside, or someone like Mr. Fortescue meeting the same fate at Greyback's wand as that woman had. He was putting everyone around him in danger and he needed to leave.

He hadn't ever really unpacked, so getting ready was quick and easy. He placed the shrinking sticker on his trunk and slipped the miniature into his pocket. He turned to Hedwig, he'd have to leave the cage, he should have gotten more stickers.

"Fly to somewhere nearby, then come find me this evening, I should be wherever I'm going by then," he told his owl, who was giving him a disapproving look. Harry flung his invisibility cloak over his body and made his way down stairs. Tom probably wouldn't come to see why Harry hadn't been to breakfast for a couple of hours, at which point everyone would find out that The-Boy-Who-Lived, was no longer in Diagon Alley. Everyone would be safer if the guy with the target on his back was nowhere to be found.

Harry walked out the door to his room and said goodbye to the place that had been a rather nice temporary home.

IIIIIII

Sitting in the dining room of the Leakey Cauldron, Severus could feel that the potion he had previously imbibed was wearing off. He threw the hood of his cloak over his head, applied a notice me not charm to his own face, and then drank from one of the potions vials inside of his pocket. He stood up and left some money on the table as the changes began to start. He felt his skin ripple, his hair shortened, and he could feel his whole body shrink slightly as he assumed a new body. The process over, he walked over to another table and sat down, removing the charm and lowering the hood. He didn't have to wait long.

"Good morning, welcome to the Leakey Cauldron. What can I get for you?" Tom asked, having walked up to the table.

"Coffee, black," Severus said, and then proceeded to act as though the man wasn't there. The bartender liked to draw guests into conversations, and Severus wasn't going to have any of that. Old Tom walked off and returned with a coffee which he set on the table.

Severus scowled, Potter was usually up well before Severus had to take another dose. The boy hadn't left the Leakey Cauldron after he had read the Prophet, and Severus wondered if he planned to do the same again. Of course the boy had still come down for meals so it seemed that the Potter spawn was having a lie in. Either that or he was up to no good. It would be just like him to decide he had to stop Greyback or Hasaan, like he had the Stone and the Chamber. His ego and Gryffindor stupidity would likely leave him compelled to do something himself, especially if he ever heard about Black.

No sooner did he think about the cursed man, than he realized that something was off. He paused and tried to take in the whole room. There was something that didn't belong. Footsteps, but no one was up and walking. He closed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the sound. Someone was invisible. He thought of the staircase, where anyone trying to get at the boy would have to go, but the footsteps were not going towards the stairs, they were moving towards the door. Potter, he thought, with a sneer on his face. Potter in his invisibility cloak. How had Albus known?! The door opened, seemingly of its own accord. He got up quickly and caught the door as it was closing, and walked past the two Aurors stationed outside, hidden from muggle eyes.

He couldn't hear any footsteps going either way on the street, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a loose page from a newspaper flatten on the sidewalk. He turned and walked quickly but silently towards the paper. Soon he could hear soft footsteps ahead of him, and he followed a while, until the two of them were in front of an alleyway. His arm swung wide in front of him, colliding with something unseen, he grabbed it, an arm, and dragged it and its owner into the alley. There was a small struggle until the invisible figure froze and said, "oh," in Potters voice. Severus reached out and pulled the invisibility cloak off of Potter's head. The boy looked upset and anxious, he kept glancing towards the street, he clearly didn't like having been dragged into an alleyway by a stranger, but he didn't seem overly afraid of Severus.

"What were you thinking, leaving your protection, you fool? I suppose it is no concern of yours that half the Auror force is keeping you safe, or that two days ago, a feral werewolf tried to abduct you," he hissed at the boy.

"Well that's just it, isn't it? They should be protecting everyone else and trying to catch all those convicts, shouldn't they, not protecting me. And Greyback can't try to attack me if he doesn't know where I am," the boy said, as if this was obvious.

"You just don't think, you never think Potter.." he paused at the boy's intensely puzzled look.

"Professor..." the boy began, and Severus's hand was over his mouth in a flash.

"Again, you just don't think. I am disguised for a reason," he said through clenched teeth. No one could get him angry as this boy could, not so quickly. "Put this on," he told the boy. "Stay silent, and we will discuss this back at the Leakey cauldron." It wouldn't do to stay in this unprotected alley any longer.

The boy scowled but he threw the cloak back on. Severus of course didn't trust the boy at all. His hand on the boys shoulder he jabbed his wand at the boys chest and incanted a quick tethering charm, usually used by parents of small children, but useful in other endeavors. He would make sure the boy followed him back if he had to drag him there. Potter of course put up a small protest but Severus silenced him with a flick of his wand and started to walk towards the Leakey Cauldron. The boy followed without giving any more trouble.

They soon entered the wizarding pub and Severus sat down in a corner booth and cast a number of privacy charms.

"Remove that damned cloak," he said to the boy who he had heard take the seat opposite himself. The boy was glaring at him. He gestured towards his mouth. Severus sneered and removed the silencing charm and the tether.

"Look, thanks for saving me from Greyback the other day, but you don't need to watch me anymore. I'm just putting everyone else at risk just sitting here. I need to go somewhere else, I need to hide out until I can go back to Hogwarts. That pyromaniac could set the whole Leakey Cauldron on fire."

"The Leakey Cauldron is protected, you are protected, which you would not be if you were out on your own. Once they realized you were outside of any wards, they could start rituals to track you and find you, or are you capable enough to block such magic?"

"If I keep moving, they won't be able to catch me, all of these Aurors are just sitting around, doing nothing but guarding me. They should be catching those mad men."

"Those Aurors and more would be looking for you, instead of looking for Hasaan if you went missing. The alley would then become much less guarded and would then be a nice soft target for Hasaan."

"Well that's stupid," Harry said angrily. "I'm just one kid, they can't just throw the manhunt away to look for me just because of something that happened when I was a baby."

"It doesn't work like that Potter," Severus sneered. "You can't just use your celebrity when it's convenient and then expect everyone to ignore it when you want. Do you even realize what you did when you asked the Minister to let you stay here?"

Harry shook his head.

"You are the symbol of a safe wizarding world. The minister wants you right here, showing the rest of the wizarding world that everything is safe and sound. Have you even been reading the prophet or do you even care what happens outside of your own tiny insignificant world?"

The boy glared at him but didn't offer any words of defense and Severus smirked. "Daily stories about the Boy-Who-Lived enjoying the alley, letting the world know that the ministry has everything under control, and that it is safe for everyone to go about their daily lives ignoring the fact that the ministry is no closer to catching anyone than they were before they all managed to get wands for themselves. No Potter, the minister will not let you disappear, I doubt he'll even let you hide in your room for another day."

"I wasn't hiding," The boy said defensively.

"More the fool you if you weren't," Severus said. "Now have I made myself clear? You won't try to leave again?"

The boy nodded. "This is stupid," he said. "It's like they care more about what everyone thinks than they do about catching those people."

"And yet we would not be in this mess if you had not decided to play the martyr and just stayed put behind the blood wards. Now, you're going to get up, leave this booth, and go about your day. Keep that damned cloak in your pocket and use it if anything goes wrong. Do not try to apprehend anyone, and for Merlin's sake Potter, stop waving every time you see me, you cretin."

Potter glared at him for a moment, and Severus was ready for another argument, but then the boy got up and walked away, shoving his cloak into his pocket, not looking back.

IIIIIII

Walking away, Harry did his best to bury the anger coursing through him. No one could get under his skin as well as Snape. If he was honest with himself though, he was more angry with the situation than anything. It wasn't his fault he had been kicked out of his house. Not that he was about to tell Snape anything about that. Probably the worst thing though was that Snape had been right about just about everything. Harry had found out he had been living in a trap, a canary in a gilded cage with a hole in the top and a cat circling below.

Yet beyond all of that, there was something else. The man's hurtful words were usually enough to make Harry angry, but after this encounter, Harry realized that he was angry because of who Snape was, he was embarrassed to have looked a fool in front of the man. It made sense in a stupid sort of way. The man was like some sort of bastardized sperm donor, but Harry didn't feel that he should feel any different about the man, he wasn't any real sort of father. Harry didn't need a father anymore and he certainly didn't want Snape as one. The man was nothing but the worst teacher at Hogwarts.

So why had Snape's contemptuous sneer left Harry with a hollow feeling inside?

Besides all of that, what was the man doing acting the body guard? He had already satisfied any debt he may have owed James Potter. Harry briefly entertained the horrifying thought that perhaps Snape knew of their relationship, but quickly dismissed it. If Snape knew, then he was sure as hell showing it in a weird way. Besides, he had no way of knowing. The only person who knew was Harry, and he was going to keep it that way. Or was he? He still didn't know anything about Sirius Black, the godfather mentioned in the letter. Not for the first time, Harry wondered what had happened to him. He certainly hadn't been in Harry's life. Harry frowned. The man was probably dead.

IIIIIIII

It would have been nice if his night off could have been put to something more relaxing than tea with the Headmaster, but recent developments had lead to the need for more planning. Now that that was out of the way, there was one thing he wanted to know.

"How did you know the boy would try to leave this morning?"

The headmaster smiled ruefully from behind his half moon glasses.

"Harry has, in some areas, a great sense of responsibility. It made sense that he would try to remove himself from the Alley after the Hogsmead attack."

"But you didn't think he would leave that day or in the middle of the night. You knew it would be the next morning."

"Why Severus, I have worked with young people for so long, I dare say I have an instinct for how they think."

"Some might think that Trelawny was more reliable to you as a seer than she seems."

"Perhaps she is," the Headmaster said. "She did tell me that I would regret choosing the maroon drapes for my office come summer and I was quite surprised to find that she was right."

Severus gave his employer a bemused glare.

"Suffice it to say," the Headmaster continued. "That I do believe that young Harry has taken your words to heart, and will not attempt to leave what security he has."

"You should have bound him to that house the moment they escaped," Severus said.

"Some things need to happen in their own way," was Albus's response. One of a few phrases Severus heard whenever the man's decisions seemed to make sense only to himself.

They continued their tea in silence, and Severus left to return to his post.

AN - Well I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I really liked writing the dream sequences, but don't worry, I'm not going to fill the story with them. I'm not sure when I'll have the next chapter out but I hope to have it done in less than a month.

I want to do a shout out to lesswrong's story Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality. It's one of the most epically original takes on Harry Potter fan fiction I've ever seen. The plot is well structured and the characters, dialogue, and action are all very engaging.


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